


Immortal Endgame

by carolroi (CarolROI)



Series: The Immortal Series [4]
Category: Highlander: The Series, The Sentinel
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-14 08:24:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 150,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8005627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarolROI/pseuds/carolroi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An old acquaintance of Diandra's shows up in Cascade with an agenda. When Jim becomes involved, Blair finds his roles as Watcher and Guide in conflict.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in CarolROI's Immortal Universe a few weeks after Immortal Champion and four months before Immortal Phoenix.
> 
> Co-written with Suisan R.  
>  
> 
> Thanks Yous: to our beta Beth B (Beth123B) for taking the time to make sure that we kept everything in perspective. 
> 
> Note: All Scenes enclosed in italics mark flashbacks to another time/place.
> 
> SPOILERS: Murder 101, Love and Guns, and any ep Jim fell for the BOTW.

I try to relax my hands on the steering wheel, to let the peace and beauty of the route I am on fill my mind. My hands clench tighter on the wheel; one at a time, I remove them and try to shake feeling back into them. I can't stop yet, not until I reach my destination. The heavy, salt laden air is cleansing, even as the slight winds that are blowing try in vain to chase the low gray clouds from the sky, pushing them further in to shore. Against the stark background reach trees with bare, skeletal arms; the only splash of color in this grayness that surrounds me is the dark green foliage of the hearty evergreens.

It's funny, but in all my travels I never have set foot in this city. Oh, I've been close but I was never drawn here, to Cascade, Washington. But now I have a twofold reason for coming here. I smile to myself as I pass the 'Welcome to Cascade' sign on the highway. I need to take care of business first then I can see to the other purpose for my visit.

I wouldn't be here at all if he had accepted my offer, the gift I was willing to give him - but no, he had to get all indignant and self-righteous. This comes from the man who killed the Dorian at the Temple of Delphi, who had committed thousands of atrocities as a member of the Four Horsemen! The man who pulled me from the rubble of Delphi, took me in, trained me, educated me, used me, loved me. Ah well, his loss. Maybe my old friend, my one time savior, will understand the need I have. 

I am Eolia, daughter of a little known tribe of Celtoi people who no longer live, even in the tunnels of my long memory. They are gone forever, leaving only me, a lost child, to remember them. 

I've managed to find a parking spot fairly close to Rainier University's main office; now to see if my information was accurate. Climbing out of the rental car I picked up at the airport, I stretch my back, loosening muscles stiffened by the drive from Seattle to Cascade. Pulling the long coat I wear tighter to my body, I make my way towards the Registrar's Office. The youthful exuberance of the students around me only deepens my feelings of despair. I'm so tired. Not even the unparalleled beauty that is Rainier's campus can alleviate the pure exhaustion in my body. The bite of the cold wind threatens to take me back, to the place in my memories where this life I've lived started.

_"Papa? Why do we run? Why not stand and fight these men?"_

_The huge bear of a man I call father bundles me closer to his body, shielding me from the winds as he runs through the woods. "Now is not the time for questions, little one."_

_His headlong run towards the deeper woods halts abruptly at the edge of a small clearing and he slowly lowers me to the ground, the long skirt I'm wearing bunching up around my knees. "Eolia," he grabs my chin, forcing me to look him in the eyes, "when the signal is given, run like the wind and do not look back, child."_

_I meekly nod my acceptance of his orders; he is my father, my clan chief, and his word is law. I watch as he pulls the blade from its place at his side, then turns back to face our pursuers; others in the group do the same. Children, like myself, are poised to run, women draw weapons of their own, my mother among them. The men that pursue us break into the small clearing, and with a cry ripped from fifty throats, the men and women of the Clan rush forward to meet our foes. And the children? We run._

_The sounds of the battle rage behind us, nipping at our heels, making us run faster. A little one, in the arms of her older brother, wails furiously. I catch up to Mikail and take his sister from his too tight grasp, and we continue our run. I never see the root, but as I fall, I curl my body around the smaller one in my arms and take the brunt of the landing upon myself. I cannot catch my breath, it hurts so much, but I manage to get little Moibhan to rise to her feet and go chasing after her brother. How long I lie there in the cooling light of the day, the cold seeping into my back from the ground not yet thawed from the winter's chill, I do not know._

_I hear them approaching, the sound of many feet upon the earth. Opening my eyes, I'm hoping to see a clansman, but instead--_

_"Well, well, well, look at what the Gods left for us."_

_The man is tall, but not of the Clan, he's too dark! I struggle to my feet, trying to run, but something snags in my hair and I'm pulled back against the body of the warrior._

_"No! We may have lost all the damn horses and your pathetic tribe, but I have you and by the Gods! You will learn your place!"_

_The stench of blood fills my nose and I find I cannot hold back my terror. Fear allows me one good blow to the leather-encased chest of the man that holds me. The blow earns me one in return and I descend into darkness, though the sun has not yet set._

I shake off the memory and slowly climb the steps before me. I've done it again, lost myself in the memories that will no longer stay away. Walking with a confidence I no longer feel, I stride into the Office of the Registrar and am politely asked, "Can I help you, miss?"

"I hope so. I'm looking for Dr. Diandra Pallas."

"Oh! Are you a friend of Dr. Pallas?" The young man starts to dig through a large file while at the same time pulling up information on the computer before him.

"You could say that. Pallas and I go way back to her time in Greece." Which is in a way true, just not as this young mortal would know it.

"Ah, well, then I guess I can tell you. She teaches Ancient History over in the 'Grove." His hands flash out and he's holding a map towards me, "Actually, it's Hargrove Hall. Her office is on the second floor, room 208 I believe. I can show you the way-- "

I take the map, study it for a moment then hand it back to him. "No, I think I can find it. Thank you for your help." Without another word, I turn and leave the office. 

Stepping back out onto the immaculately trimmed lawn, I take the pathway to the right and wind my way through the throng of students rushing to and from classes. The wind has picked up again and is blowing my long tresses across my face; I don't even bother with trying to tame the unruly mass anymore. I just don't care. 

Approaching the building I saw on the map, I feel the tingle, the surge up my spine that tells me there is an Immortal nearby. Looking up from the pathway, I catch sight of her in the window of a second floor room. She is Diandra, the last Dorian of Delphi, my Savior, and my friend. My means to an end, if only she'll grant my final wish. 

I know not how long I stand there, transfixed by the sight of the woman I came to see, but being run over by another human has a way of breaking one out of a spell. We both tumble to the ground, his books and backpack flying, while I try to break my fall in such a way that the presence of the steel blade under my long coat isn't revealed. 

"Oh, man! I'm so sorry! I didn't even see you there! Are you okay?"

Long, curly brown hair frames a handsome face, his blue eyes bringing to mind the depths of the oceans. He's holding out a hand to me, offering assistance. I take it. His grip is amazingly strong, and once on my feet, I realize he's only a few inches taller than I am. "Thank you, I'm fine. See?" I gesture at my body, then push my hair back from my face. "No harm done." 

He's gathering up the books and slinging the backpack onto his shoulder. "Are you sure? I mean, I hit you pretty hard-- "

"I'm fine. Besides, I should know better than to daydream on the sidewalk of a busy place like this." 

"Yeah, well, it's finals week. All the students and faculty tend to get a little crazy about this time of year." He holds his hand out to me once again, this time in greeting. "Blair Sandburg."

"Lee Eolia." I shake his hand and catch a glimpse of something in his eyes, like he's heard my name before. I brush aside my thoughts as we release. "Maybe you can help me, Mr. Sandburg."

"Sure." 

"I'm looking for Dr. Pallas." There! I did see something in his eyes this time! But what? Fear? Concern? Whatever it is, it's gone again. "I was told her office is in this building; is that correct?"

"Uh, yeah. Second floor. Room 208. I'm just not sure if she's there or not right now. I believe she's got a class over in the main lecture hall this hour."

The way his gaze shifts to the left indicates he's lying for her. Does he suspect? Does he know? "That's okay. I can wait. I'm not going anywhere for a while."

"Maybe I can pass on a message for you?"

This Blair Sandburg knows Diandra, of that I'm sure. The fact he's protecting her tells me he knows of us Immortals. Fine. "That would be very kind of you." I wait as he grabs a pen and pad of paper from his backpack then gesture for him to hand the items to me. I scribble my message as I talk with the oh so very young man. "I really appreciate this, Mr. Sandburg. I've been trying to locate Diandra for quite some time and now," I hand the notepad and pen back to him, "I'm looking forward to our reunion." As he takes the notepad from my hand, I spy the mark. Blue ink stains the inside of his left wrist, the mark of a Watcher. 

"I'll make sure Dee gets your note." He glances at the words I've written. "You're staying at the Excelsior?"

"Yes, I'll be there for about a week, maybe more. Maybe less. I really can't say at this time." Hopefully less.

Glancing at the watch on his wrist, he makes his excuses. "Well, I've got a class to teach, maybe I'll see you around later?"

"Maybe." I turn and leave him standing on the sidewalk, feeling his gaze bore into my back. I give one final glance up to the second story window where my old friend had been earlier. I see her and merely nod. We will meet again, soon, and then it will all be over.

* * *

Diandra glanced up from her computer at the knock on her door. A smile spread slowly across her face at the sight of her lover leaning against the door frame. His chestnut curls spilled over his shoulders in playful disarray and his blue eyes twinkled behind his wire-rim glasses. "Hey, Lobo. All done for today?"

"Um hmm." Entering her office, Blair walked around the desk to her side. Turning her chair until she was facing him, he took both her hands in his, pulling her to her feet and into a hug. "Love you, angel," he whispered in her ear before pressing his lips to hers.

Dee kissed back, enjoying his unexpected attentions. Normally they saved the physical expression of their love for after working hours. It wouldn't do to have tongues wagging about professor/student misconduct even though they weren't in the same department and Blair had never taken a class with her. When they finally parted, Dee ran a hand over his cheek, smiling at the tickle of his five o'clock shadow against her fingertips. "So what was that for?"

He gave her a smile, but she could see something troubling in his eyes. "Lobo, what is it?"

Blair looked down at the floor for a moment. "You know," he finally said, "I'm all done with my finals, and I can get someone to sub as proctor for me tomorrow. You could get a sub for your last exam too, and we could leave tonight for Hawaii." He met her eyes again, giving her his infectious grin.

Dee tugged at one of his curls. "Uh huh. And why would I want to do that?"

Blair's eyes widened innocently and his grin turned mischievous. "The opportunity to spend an extra week, just you and me, lying on the beach, swimming in the surf, making love in the moonlight-- "

"And?" she pressed. "I know you have to have another motive, Lobo. You were really looking forward to all of us spending Christmas together. That's why we weren't leaving until the day after Christmas."

Sighing, he seemed to shrink into himself, his blue eyes darkening with resignation and something she thought might be fear. Shrugging, he said, "It was worth a try." Digging into the pocket of his jeans, he handed her a crumpled piece of paper. "I wanted to throw it away, to burn it, but I knew it wasn't my place. I can't interfere."

Goddess! That buzz she'd felt this morning, whoever it was must have found Blair and given him a message for her. She hugged him tightly, feeling him trembling against her.

"I'm sorry, Dee. I can't help it. I can't have you back with me for a few short weeks and then lose you. It just hurts too much."

"Hey, hey, let's see what it says first, okay?" She opened the note and glanced at the name written there.

"Dee?" She felt the blood draining from her face, and Blair reached out a hand to help her into her chair.

"Goddess. Eolia--I haven't heard from her in-- half a century."

"She's a good Immortal, right? Tell me she's a friend."

Dee looked up into his worried face and gave him a reassuring smile. "Yes, she's a friend, or was."

**_Ancient Greece, aprox. 750 BC. The Temple at Delphi_**

_"Dorian, Dorian Diandra awake!"_

_At her servant's urgent words, the young Oracle rolled over and opened her eyes. "What is it Melora? Can't it wait until morning?"_

_The woman shook her head. "No, Dorian, it cannot. The soldiers of Apollo have surprised the cult of heathens that has been plaguing us. They have captured the leaders, and you are needed to pass judgment."_

_Diandra nodded absently as she rose and began to dress in her official robes. "Call out the others, if they have not already been woken. Have the guards bring the heathens to the large meeting chamber. They are not to enter the temple under any circumstances."_

_"Yes, Dorian." The servant scurried away._

_Splashing water from the basin in the room onto her face, the Oracle pondered what to do with the cult members. They had been approaching the people of Delphi and the surrounding area for months, filling their heads with nonsense about a god who gave his people great power in exchange for blood sacrifices. She shuddered. She hated the ritual of animal sacrifice so much that she had outlawed it at Delphi. People seeking the Oracle's help were now to bring goods, or if they had no worldly possessions, they would serve in the temple in exchange for their prophecy. But to sacrifice a human? The very thought made her ill._

_Twisting her long dark brown hair up into the knot that signified her position in the temple hierarchy, she pinned it in place, then adjusted the drape of the full-length pure white gown that marked her as Dorian. The cult was small, and normally the acolytes of Apollo would have overlooked it, knowing from experience that it would die out quickly and only the true Gods would survive. But the cultists had grown angry when the people would not bow to their god and had begun attacking villages. The temple had then been forced to step in and a small war had been going on ever since. But Melora had brought good news. If the leaders had been captured, then perhaps the war would soon be over._

_Leaving her room, Diandra followed the other priestesses to the meeting room, and took her place at the top of the raised dais at one end of the long hall, her fellow priests and priestesses flanking her on either side in descending order of rank. Once everyone was present, she signaled for the prisoners to be brought in. There were perhaps ten of them, a ragtag group of dirty men in mismatched armor, their eyes alight with religious fervor. In the midst of their group was a small huddled figure. Long stringy hair hung over the person's face, and, if she stood on tiptoe, Diandra could see the captive's hands were bound behind their back._

_She was opening her mouth to begin the interrogation, when the cultists parted, revealing the hidden figure as a naked woman, her skin covered in dried dirt and blood. One of the men grabbed a handful of her hair, lifting her until her feet barely touched the ground. A second cultist drew a knife from some hidden pocket, and as the acolytes of Apollo watched in horror, slit the woman from throat to belly, screaming an obscene prayer to his god._

_Battle cries echoed in the room as the cultists rushed the priests, intent on assassinating them all. Most of the priestesses screamed and ran for the exits, the priests drew their ceremonial knives and went to help the guards. Diandra stood frozen at the top of the steps for a moment then descended onto the battlefield, drawn to the forgotten body of the dying woman. She ignored the fighting going on around her, knowing her God would not let her be harmed._

_By the time Diandra reached her, the woman was already dead. She knelt next to her, feeling the sacrifice's warm blood soaking through her gown. Lifting the woman's head, she cradled it in her lap, praying for Hades to let her cross over to the Elysian Fields. The woman's eyes snapped open followed by a sharp intake of breath, and the seemingly dead girl rolled to her knees awkwardly._

_"Holy Goddess!" She was alive! Her wound had vanished! What kind of heathen trick was this? As Diandra struggled to wrap her mind around the idea, her eyes met those of the sacrifice. Her large, expressive brown eyes were filled with pure, mindless terror. The Dorian reached out toward her, her hand brushing against the other woman's shoulder, setting her to violent trembling accompanied by a high pitched, keening wail. Not knowing what else to do, Diandra wrapped her arms around her, holding her close, whispering words of reassurance, uncertain if she was even being understood. Finally exhaustion claimed the woman, and she collapsed, unconscious._

_As if suddenly released from a spell, Diandra gazed around the meeting room. The battle was over. The cultists had been slain by the temple guards, one of whom stood at attention near her. The Dorian realized belatedly he had probably been protecting her the entire time, and by extension the cultists' victim as well. "Guard, please take her to my quarters."_

_Relieved of her burden, Diandra got to her feet. One of the senior priests approached her. "Dorian-- "_

_She shook her head. "Just clean it up." She pointed at the body of the man who had slain the small woman. "Take them out of here, and burn them. Burn them all. Send the soldiers after any that might have escaped. I want them all dead. All of them!" With those words, she swept from the room on the heels of the guard carrying the unconscious stranger._

* * *

The room I've rented in the Excelsior is ridiculously hedonistic. 'The Presidential Suite,' the manager told me. Fine, I need the room.

The bellhop places my luggage on the table and offers to unpack for me, but I wave him off. The last thing I need is some teenage mortal pawing through the electronics gear that I have hidden in pockets shielded from probing airport x-ray machines. I tip him with a twenty-dollar bill and he leaves. By the smile on his face, I know I can ask anything of him in the future and he'd be more than willing to agree. Perhaps-- No. I don't have time for such things. Finally shrugging out of my long coat, flinging it to the foot of the huge bed in the bedroom part of the suite, I start to unpack. First things first, though. I find my makeup kit and cross over to the bathroom, where I brush out my unruly mass of mahogany hair and carefully braid it into a long ponytail. That done, I unpack my clothing, utilizing less than half of the available storage. The rest of the gear I squirrel away in various places around the entire suite, taking special care with where I place the blasting caps. 

I turn to face the last piece of luggage, the huge, old-style steamer trunk. It's seen better years, like when I found it in Cairo, but it serves a special purpose now. Dragging the trunk into the bedroom, I sit on the edge of the bed and open the lid. Inside are my most precious mementos. The stark white robe, flashed through with silver thread, had once graced the body of my husband. His scent still lingers within the weave and I inhale deeply, the cloth pressed to my face, knowing in time even that will fade. Setting aside the robe, I find the gilt-framed photo of us. We were in Brazil, Rio de Janeiro, for Carnival three years ago. His dark eyes flash in laughter, matching the mirth in my own brown eyes, the wind from the ocean blowing our long hair together in a riot of jet and mahogany. I can't even remember who took the photo for us. Carefully, I set that aside as well. It is the very last item, lying in the bottom of the trunk beneath more memories, I want to hold.

The hilt is wrapped in fine, twisted wire, the scabbard a buttery soft black leather with an ever so slight a curve to its design. With ease born of centuries of practice, I pull the deadly blade and once again marvel at the intricate pattern of the Damascus steel. This had been his blade, my husband's, given to him by the commander/king of the army he served in, Saladin. I never told him just how close we'd been once, that if the Fates had decreed it, we would've met on the sands outside of Acre. Now he'll never know.

My husband was Azir el Sadih, a Bedouin and a follower of the Faithful. He'd experienced his first death, his first taste of Immortality, in the year King Richard The Lionheart had been taken prisoner in the Crusades. We, however, didn't meet until much, much later-- 

_**June, 1914, Hapsburg Castle, Austria-Hungary** _

_I creep along the southernmost exposure of the castle walls, sticking to the shadows, not wanting to be spotted, not yet. Being a girl of many talents, I had taken up service to the Royal family of Austria. Only a few knew of my true purpose, Archduke Ferdinand, his wife Sophie, and his Uncle Francis Joseph. All Hapsburgs-Lorraines arguably one of the most powerful royal families left in Europe. I am a spy. No cloaks and daggers, hidden documents, or silly code words for me, though. My talent lies in my ability to make men of power to loosen their tongues and talk freely in the darkened confines of the bedroom. In other words, I am a whore._

_I was just returning to Hapsburg Castle after too long an evening spent in the arms of a very inept lover, but a man who knew important things. The full length, black cloak I wear hides me well, and the other figure I spy creeping along the base wall of the Castle doesn't see or hear me as I start to stalk him._

_My stealthy feet freeze as the jangling, tingling, electrifying shiver runs up my spine to echo in my head. The object of my hunt unerringly turns towards me. Great! Just what I don't need. Still cautious of the guards patrolling the walls above, the other Immortal and I quietly steal off into the night, my thoughts shifting from my previous liason to the upcoming challenge._

_He surprises me by leading me to the Hapsburg family church. Neither of us draws our sword, forbidden by the rules of The Game from combat on Holy Ground. He takes the initiative and doesn't even bother with formalities._

_"I'm not here for your head, sweet lady. I'm looking for the one known as The Cat."_

_He mangles the language of Austria-Hungary badly. I can barely make out what he is saying, but hearing my code name fall from his lips shocks me. "The Cat? What business do you have with The Cat?"_

_"The Cat is reportedly a gatherer of information, information that can be useful to the Archduke." He leans his long, lanky body against the royal enclosure to the right of the pulpit. A brilliant white flash of near perfect teeth graces his dark face, softening its hawk-like features._

_Reckless, I toss back the hood of my cloak, my hair spilling from its confines as I approach him, drawn like a moth to flame. "I know not of this 'Cat' you speak of, sir. But I do have the joy of being, shall we say, close, to the Duke and can make sure what ever information you have gets to his ears, and his alone."_

_"Houri." He spits on the floor, close to my feet, and moves away from me. "The information I have cannot be trusted to a mere whore."_

_I shrug, the cloak falling from my shoulders to reveal a dress of the deepest greens, cut to fit closely to my form. A bodkin blade is clearly visible on my hip, its brown and gold jewels winking in the soft light of the candles that light the room. "And what if I told you, good sir, The Cat you seek is, in fact, the whore in front of you?"_

_He laughs! "That is clever, Houri. Since I know not who, or what, The Cat is, I could take the chance you speak the truth, but I'd rather not." His dark eyes deepen in thought as they flick over my body. I oblige him by stretching sensuously, and those wonderful, deep, dark eyes darken even more. "You seek to tempt me? You use your body to weaken a man's will, binding him to you, sapping him of strength to loosen his tongue?"_

_I move in closer to him; he doesn't flinch away as I run my hands across his chest, shoulder and the nape of his neck, seeking out the spots I know can drive a man to recklessness. My touch is feather soft. "It's worked before, dark one. If you like what you see, and wish to make a pact between us, I'm willing to show you just how The Cat gathers the cream of information that goes only to Archduke Ferdinand."_

_His hand reaches out and roughly pulls me into his arms, his soft lips meeting mine as our bodies make contact. For a fleeting second, I think what we're about to do should not be done on Holy Ground, but then all coherent thought leaves me as his skillful lips and tongue find that certain spot on my neck._

_An hour later, I have the information from my Hawk. Azir el Sadih tells me to warn the Archduke against traveling to Sarajevo, that there is a foul plot afoot. I pass the word to Francis, Ferdinand and his wife, Sophia, but they insist on ignoring my warnings since I have no hard evidence nor names of conspirators to give them. Five days later, they are dead._

* * *

Gently laying Azir's sword on the pillow his head would've rested upon were he here with me, I realize hours have passed and I need to hurry and gather my network of people together. I reach for my coat and pull the tiny, digital phone from a pocket and start my calls.

By six PM I've had dinner brought up and my guests have arrived. The news is what I was expecting. Our client's request must be met within the next week, so if I'm to do this assignment, it has to be soon, or my team will not be able to get me through security and into the complex. The strategy meeting lasts until two AM, but when the last of my team leaves my room, we're ready to move tomorrow after sundown. The actual timing will be left up to me.

* * *

God, he needed this. Blair leaned over his Immortal lover, lips nibbling gently at her throat, his hand tracing her stomach muscles through the silken fabric of her robe. He felt her fingers combing through his hair, gripping the back of his neck, holding him in place. He was content to stay there, to touch her, to pleasure her, because every moment she spent with him meant she was safe from whatever Lee Eolia wanted from her.

Blair and Diandra had left the university and come straight back to the loft he shared with Jim Ellison. The detective was spending the night on a stakeout, so the lovers had the place to themselves. He'd talked her into a workout before dinner, throwing everything he had at her. He hadn't pulled any punches and neither had she; he had the bruises to prove it. He suspected she knew what he was doing, that he wanted her to be sharp, to be ready for any eventuality. It hadn't taken much effort on her part he knew, but never had he been quite so happy to be pummeled. 

They'd taken a shower, eaten dinner, and now were lying on a couple of blankets in front of the fire, engaged in some serious foreplay. She rose up without warning and rolled him onto his back; the kisses she rained down on his face were cool and gentle. The thought he'd been avoiding since the moment he'd bumped into Eolia sprang to the forefront of his mind. This might be the last time she ever touched him like this, the last time she loved him. Her kisses stopped, and he opened his eyes to meet her worried gaze.

"What is it, Lobo? Your heart rate just went through the roof."

He swallowed past the painful lump in his throat. "I'm sorry. I just started thinking about Eolia. What if she's here for you? What if she challenges you? What if--"

Diandra pressed two fingers to his lips gently, silencing him. "You know that was the deal, Blair. I've never kept anything from you. You knew the consequences when you got involved with me. And we've been through this before, and everything turned out all right."

He couldn't shake fear's hold on him. "But what if this time's different? What if you-- " He could barely get the words out, "what if you don't come back? I couldn't take that. I couldn't-- ."

Placing her hand back over his mouth, she said, "That's not going to happen, Lobo. You have to have confidence in me. I'm at the top of my form; I've been back in the Game for nearly three years now. I haven't lost a challenge yet."

"But-- "

She shook her head and sat up, running a hand through her hair. "Damn it, Lobo. I've been doing this for over 2,500 years. I will not leave you, you understand me?"

Blair sat up as well, leaning his back against the couch. Slowly he brought his eyes up to meet hers, reading concern, confidence and love in those electric blue depths. He nodded, moving closer for a tight hug. 

Kissing his temple lightly, she said, "Besides, last time we met, I kicked her ass."

_**June 30, 1934 Bonn, Germany** _

_Diandra stepped out of the building into the deserted street, turning the collar of her trenchcoat up against the cold drizzle. It was time to leave Germany, she knew that now. It was only a matter of time before her name turned up on the SS list of threats to the government. And if she stayed-- well, she would be forced to choose sides, and that would bring a conflict she didn't want._

_Damn Stasha and the stupid, foolish, blind idealism of youth. Dee had talked until she was blue in the face, but her words had fallen on deaf ears. All Stasha could see was the grand sweep of Hitler's plan for Germany, and her own place in that plan. Dee shuddered. She knew her student had always had a cruel streak and a fascination for the military ever since the Czar's army had over run her small village and killed her parents. Being in the military meant being in power, and power was what Stasha craved most, despite all Diandra's attempts to teach her otherwise._

_Sighing, she shook herself. It was late, and her decision had been made. She had done her best to convince her pupil what she was doing was wrong and failed. Stasha was now someone else's problem. She headed back to her hotel, on the lookout for the military police, as she was out long past curfew. A few blocks from her destination, she felt the internal trill that sent her blood to singing. Just what she needed, to run into another Immortal. Very well, if they wanted a challenge, then she would choose the ground._

_Diandra walked quickly through a maze of darkened alleyways into a small courtyard, where, drawing her katana, she turned to face her stalker. There was no one there. She stood there for a moment, puzzled, knowing the other Immortal had followed her. She was about to demand they show themselves when the faint scrape of leather on cobblestones warned her._

_Whirling, she brought her sword up just in time to block the mortal blow. She lashed out with a kick, knocking her opponent back, giving her time to set herself. Again the small, hooded figure attacked, never letting up, keeping Diandra on the defensive. She settled into a rhythm of parrying, waiting for an opening, wondering if this was a random attack, or if Stasha had sent someone to take care of her. The other's buzz had seemed familiar, and yet--well, there was one way to find out. Dee parried a thrust away and down, then moving past the other's lowered sword, yanked the hood off before spinning out of reach._

_The woman swore in a language few people besides Diandra even remembered, but she made no move to conceal herself again. Dee was surprised and disappointed all in one. She knew this was the rule of the Game, but still, she had never expected to face the Celtoi slave she had saved so long ago. "Eolia," she breathed, taking in the short red hair and the absolutely black look in her dark eyes._

_"Bitch! How can you align yourself with those murdering bastards?" The smaller woman didn't wait for an answer, raising her blade high and bringing it down hard on Diandra's sword. Dee again pushed the attack away, but this time followed it up with a kick to her opponent's stomach._

_Eolia doubled over, but backed out of range, just as the essence of a third immortal washed over them. "Damn it, Azir, this is my battle, you stay out of it!"_

_Out of the corner of her eye, Diandra saw a tall, dark-complected man detach himself from the shadows of the alleyway, concern for Eolia evident on his face. Enough of this! Dee used the Celtoi's distraction at the other's appearance to her advantage. A quick thrust and twist, and Eolia's blade flew from her grasp to clatter to the pavement. A spinning back kick laid the smaller woman out on the ground. Dee moved to stand over her, the tip of her katana tight against Eolia's throat._

_The big man reached for his blade. "Uh uh, I don't think so, buddy. Not unless you want your friend back in pieces." She glared down at the furious Immortal. "Now would you mind telling me what this is all about?"_

_Eolia spat in Dee's direction. "You should know, Shutzstaffel dog!"_

_"Shutzstaffel? You think I am with the SS? Oh, goddess, Eolia, where did you get such an idea? I know it has been centuries since our last meeting, but can you really think I've changed that much?"_

_For the first time, the dark man spoke. "We saw you meet with the Inquisitor."_

_Dee frowned, her eyebrows lowering in puzzlement. The Inquisitor? Who in the hell was that? Unless they meant Stasha--"Do you mean Stasha?" At their blank looks, she realized they wouldn't know her by that name. "Heidi Brummel, do you mean her?"_

_The man nodded tersely. "What business do you have with her, if you are not with the SS?"_

_Sensing he, at least, was willing to listen to her answer, Dee stepped back, letting Eolia get to her feet. "Stasha is a former student. I was trying to convince her to give up her allegiance to Hitler and his cause and leave Germany with me. She would have none of it, and I've washed my hands of her."_

_Eolia brushed the dirt from her clothes. "Do you know what she's done? What Hitler's done?"_

_Diandra shook her head. "I've spent most of today waiting to see her. Why?"_

_The man spoke up. "She has helped orchestrate the murder of hundreds of Sturmabteilung members, as well as innocent people."_

_Dee felt sick. That was why Stasha had been so busy, had kept her cooling her heels. She knew now, without a doubt, there was no hope for Stasha, no saving her. She kept her composure, not letting her inner turmoil show. "I had no knowledge or part in any SS plans. And as of tonight, Stasha is no longer under my protection. I will not raise my sword against my student, but you are more than welcome to deal with her in any manner you deem necessary." With those words, Diandra sheathed her blade, and left the courtyard. She would be on her way out of Germany by the time the sun rose._

* * *

Diandra rolled over and hit the alarm clock's off button before it had time to ring. She glanced at the sleeping form beside her, then, reaching for the telephone, she quietly punched in a number. At the mumbled "Hello", she said, "Our Lady of Perpetual Help church, after 5 PM tonight." Hanging up the phone, she scooted up behind Blair, wrapping an arm around his waist and leaning her cheek against his back, unaware his eyes were open, and he had heard every word.

* * *

_**Ancient Eurasia, aprox 750 BC** _

_The blow to my head for daring to spill water sends me to the ground. I manage to crawl a few feet away from my tormentor only to have my flight halted by the heavy foot that steps down on my long, matted hair._

_"Enough! The God has decreed we're to have another bloodletting in his name. This one has been with us a long time; let her be the Chosen One."_

_I am hauled to my feet, roughly handled by the one I know is the leader of the tribe I've been held by for many seasons. Nearly ten cycles of the seasons, and I still haven't grasped their crude language, but I understand the intent when the leader throws me to the feet of the one who had killed all my fellow clan members. I am the last one. The last of the Celtoi._

_The shaman, for I have no other word for him, treats me gently, helping me rise back to my feet. He gestures for me to follow him and, knowing what disobedience to this one would mean, I follow. He and his lifemate take me to the river and bathe me. It is the first time I've been allowed to wash the filth from my body since I came to be with this tribe. Afterwards, the man's mate drapes a soft, pale leather sheath over my head._

_For a while, maybe seven days, I'm treated well. No warriors come to claim me for a night's amusement. I'm allowed to eat my fill instead of having to fight the wild dogs for scraps. The women of the tribe help me to tame my long hair, plaiting it, weaving beads through the heavy mass._

_Night falls on the seventh day and as I carefully sip the cup of water the shaman's wife has given me, I feel a strangeness overtake my mind. The cup falls from my hand, the leader and shaman rise to their feet and I cringe. I'm to be punished; I know this. Water is a blessing not to be wasted and I have done just that._

_Dragged from the shaman's hut, I'm made to walk before the Leader, his hands tight on my upper arms. As we walk, I notice only the men in the camp follow us. I don't care; I'm having trouble keeping my feet under me. I dare to raise my eyes, to see where I'm being taken. I stumble only to be picked up and carried by the Leader. I fade out, my eyes closing._

_The stone under my back is hard, rough and, oh, so cold. My eyes snap open at the touch slowly working its way up my legs. NO! I've been stripped of the covering that has graced my body, hidden it from eyes like those smiling cruelly into mine. The eyes belong to a warrior I've only seen, who has never taken me. The cold from the stone under my back seeps into my stomach. I try to rise up off the stone, only to feel, for the first time, the hands holding me in place. The pain from my center causes me to scream as the warrior who has mounted my body impales me with his hard flesh._

_The pain increases each time the man plunges into me, my cries ignored by those holding me down so he can seek his release. With a final shudder, loud groan and a gush of unwelcome warmth, it is over. The warrior collapses on my body, pinning me between his heavy weight and the now warm stone._

_A word from the Leader, followed by a harsher one from the shaman, and the man climbs off my body. I want to curl up, to bring my knees to my chest to ease the pain in my lower gut, but I'm still held. Four men, men who have used my body in a like manner, hold me by my ankles and wrists. I cast my eyes around to see the rest of the tribe's warriors and men gathered in the not quite darkness._

_A gentle hand on my brow brings my attention back to the shaman, the one who has taken care of me for many days. He smiles at me as he begins to chant in a language even more unfamiliar to me than that of the tribe. The sounds falling from his lips are soothing, and I find myself relaxing, no longer resisting the hands binding me._

_The words change, becoming hateful, harsh, and guttural. I open eyes I hadn't realized I'd closed, just in time to see the long, black blade rise above my chest and plunge downward. The PAIN--_

* * *

I scream, my heart pounding furiously in my undamaged body. I stumble out of the bed, rushing for the bathroom, where I bring up the pitiful remains of my dinner from the evening before. Rinsing my befouled mouth out at the sink, I look into the mirror and see what I must have looked like that night so long ago, when I died for the first time. 

Long, matted, bed mussed hair the color of polished mahogany spills uncontrolled over my pale shoulders. Dark circles ring fearful, light brown eyes in a face which has lost its color. Taking up my brush, I set about smoothing the tangles from my hair, a task my husband would've performed for me once. 

The phone in the other part of the suite trills out in the silence which has settled over the room since I awoke. Grabbing the long, black, silk robe from the bed as I pass, I walk to the living area and pick up the handset.

"Hello?"

"Our Lady of Perpetual Help church, after 5 PM tonight." Diandra. The line goes dead.

Hanging up the phone, I notice I have some time to waste as I don't have to be at QuestScape until eleven. It's only eight AM now, and I feel tired. A little nap to reclaim the rest I lost thanks to my recurring nightmare seems to be in order. Jan-Michel LaFollet, my bodyguard, will be here around ten, so I have about an hour and a half to try to recover. Shrugging out of the silk, which pools around my feet, I slip back into the large bed. The satiny smoothness of the sheets lures me back, to the first time I heard the voice of the woman who I'd just spoken to on the phone--

_**Ancient Greece, The Temple at Delphi Aprox 750 BC** _

_It happened again. Why me? Why have I been chosen to suffer like this, to feel my heart ripped apart, my body torn asunder so many times yet to revive and not bear the wounds? My thoughts stop as I realize the smells of this place are not the same as before. Not the smell of earth, but spicy sharp smells. And I'm clean! They haven't bothered to do that since the first time! No! Not again!_

_The coverings tangle in my feet, but I fight them only to fall to the hard floor. A soft voice calls out, the same voice from when I woke up before. In my fear I scurry like a scuttle bug into a corner, putting my back against the cool, smooth, stone walls. Unlike before, the first time, my hair is loose, flying about my face, obscuring my view of the owner of the soft voice. Crouched in a tiny ball, I slowly raise my hand and brush hair from my eyes._

_She is beautiful! Her long, dark brown hair is swept up in a curious style, her white clothing is almost blinding in its cleanliness! It is her voice I hear, soft words, encouraging me as she slowly, carefully makes her way towards me. I nearly laugh as I get the strange idea she is as scared of me as I am of her. The laugh dies in my throat and I start to cry, tears falling from my face. Sobs, too many years held back in silence, break loose from me. I know not why, but I feel I'm safe here with this soft voiced woman, and as I cry, I feel arms close around my body in a way that reminds me of the last time my mother held me. The tears flow even harder, as the long forgotten memory of my mother's tenderness is rekindled in the gentle arms holding me now--_

* * *

The sound of the travel alarm clock pulls me back once again to the present. Damn! Nine-thirty! I rush to the bathroom. Jan-Michel will be here shortly.

As is his wont, my bodyguard shows up early, but I'm almost ready. I'm pulling my waist long hair up into a French twist as I let him into the suite. I've chosen to wear the color of mourning, all black, from the long-sleeved silk shirt, to the tapered suede pants and matching boots. "Morning, Jan-Michel."

"You should be more careful about who you let walk into your suite." His eyes sweep the rooms, looking for gods-know-what, before returning his gaze to me. "You had the dream again, didn't you?"

His insight takes me by surprise. But then again, he's been with the company for over five years, acting as bodyguard to myself and Azir for three of those. I decide to evade the probing question. "Have we enough time to grab a latte before meeting with Mr. Ventriss?" 

I turn away from him to hide my smile at his exasperated sigh. "Fine. Don't tell me. Lee, I don't know what happened to you, what causes your nightmares, but you have them every year at the same time-- "

"Enough!" I snap at him. The hurt hiding in his hazel eyes immediately makes me regret my churlish behavior. "Jan, I'm sorry. I'm a little upset this morning; I don't need to be taking it out on you."

"I worry about you, Lee. And I'll admit, it's more than just professional behavior on my part. Since Azir was killed, you just aren't the same woman."

"I know, I know. But I have to honor the contracts Azir and I made." I reach for my long coat, only to have the man hold it out for me. After shrugging into the coat, I turn to see him holding out my sword to me.

"Never, never leave home without it, mi'lady."

For the first time in a long while, I laugh, truly laugh. It's nice to have someone who knows about Immortals working so closely with me. I take the blade from his hands, not for the first time noticing the blue tattoo in the inside of his left wrist. Yes, LaFollet is a Watcher, mine, and Azir's, too, before my husband had been cut out of the Game. 

Secreting the sword in its hidden sheath inside my coat, I gather up the briefcase and files I need to present the owner of QuestScape with my plans for testing his security system.

Less than an hour later, after stopping on the way to grab a double strength Irish Cream Americano latte, I'm sitting across a table from Mr. Norman Ventriss, owner of QuestScape.

"I'm sorry to hear of your loss, Ms. Sadih-- "

"Eolia. I've given up my married name, Mr. Ventriss."

He fidgets in his seat, his hands restless on the table. "Sorry, I didn't know. I just assumed," he shrugs off his mood and tries to smile. "So, I understand you're here to honor the contract I made with WindHawk Securities?"

WindHawk is the company Azir and I built from the ground up ten years ago. It seemed a great way to put the skills we had learned as spies in the two great wars and the smaller conflicts to good use. Industrial espionage is a growing concern, especially among technology companies like QuestScape and the other major player here in Cascade, Complexium Communications. 

"Yes. Have you told anyone in your company you've hired outside investigators?"

"No. But depending on how well your team does its job, I may have another contract for you."

I smile, nodding towards LaFollet. "That will be completely up to LaFollet here, Mr. Ventriss."

Jan-Michel takes a half step forward, moving in closer to my back. "I'm afraid WindHawk is quite booked for the next few weeks, but we will get in touch with you later to see if we can fit your request in."

"I understand. You have a plan to show me?" 

We haggle over the security test plan for forty-five minutes. Poor man seems shocked to learn there will only be one entry person, and that person will be me. I calmly explain I like to keep my hand in the trade, that I have been trained by the very best, and it seems to calm his concerns. He gives me a target, a development lab on the fourth floor with several electronic checkpoints to get through. If I can make it inside the lab, there will be a DVD-RAM drive on the table furthest from the entryway I'm to secure, get out of the building, and hand over to him at his private home. 

"The information on the drive, it's fake, correct?"

"No, Ms. Eolia, it's very real. And just sensitive enough to make my security people shit their pants when they realize it's gone missing."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Ventriss. That's not the agreement we had." I stand up, ready to walk out of the room.

"Wait!"

I slowly turn back to face the man and lower my voice to its frostiest timbre. "Yes, Mr. Ventriss? Please don't waste my time, it's too valuable." 

Ventriss nods his head. "I understand, I was just hoping to up the odds a bit. I've never hired outside security experts before and I want my people to take this seriously."

I look over to Jan-Michel. It's rather obvious he believes the man is lying. Hell, so do I. A barely noticeable nod from my friend tells me he's willing to listen to Ventriss and make his recommendation later, in private. "That's no excuse, but I'm curious now. Go on."

"The lab you'll need to attempt access to is where my programmers are working on several different projects. I'll leave the dummy drive in there for you to pick up. Be very careful in there, some of the equipment in that lab is highly sensitive." 

"Fine. I'll be extra careful around it then." I conclude the meeting and Jan-Michel and I walk out of the QuestScape Corporate Offices into a dreary mid-afternoon in Cascade.

"I don't trust him, Lee."

"Really, Jan-Michel? Neither do I." And I don't. I just know that somehow, some way, the man is going to try to screw WindHawk. I'm already thinking I should just check his security measures, not taking the dummy, and get the hell out of town. But I have other business to attend to here.

"Does the sun ever shine on this city?" Ah, his way of letting me know he's not happy about the meeting we just left. 

I smile weakly at his words as he hands me into the rental car. “Apparently not today." I glance at my watch. Noon. In five hours I'm to meet with Diandra. Before I do, I have to ditch my watchdog. “How about we hit some of the bookshops this town is known for? Might as well get some shopping in while we're here. I could do with another coffee, too.”

* * *

What I do to Jan-Michel is a little vile. But, damn it, I can't take the chance he will try to stop me from meeting with Pallas.

After leaving our meeting, we argue over whether or not to honor the contract with QuestScape. Even though I have a bad feeling about the whole thing, I finally convince LaFollet we should do the job. In fact, I think I'll just leave one of my business cards in the lab instead of taking the prop, maybe with a nice little note on the back. I hold back the giggle fit threatening to bubble up in my throat.

When we have finished perusing the antique bookstore where Jan-Michel has somehow found an old Chronicle, we stop at a place known as Coffee Heaven. Before our ordered coffees arrive at the small table, a double shot espresso for myself and a thick, sweet, Turkish blend for him, he excuses himself. I wait until he has disappeared into the men's room, then I carefully, under the guise of adding a dollop of cream to his cup, slip the potion in. By the time we leave Coffee Heaven, I'm going one way with a new bodyguard, while the ambulance takes him to Cascade General Hospital.

He will recover in a few hours, the cramps and uncontrollable vomiting over with, and I'll have to deal with a pissed off Watcher/Bodyguard. Ditching his replacement, John David, is easy enough. The kid is still too green. 

The last of the watery sunlight has faded as I pull the car to the curb, two blocks away from my destination. The walk will make me late to the meeting, but I'm not sure what is in store for me. Our Lady of Perpetual Help is located in a section of the city that can only be described as rundown and that is a charitable description.

We're not far from the shore of Puget Sound, and there is a fog rolling in, hugging the ground in a strange, soupy mist. I walk towards the church, my eyes and ears wide open. I don't think Diandra would cross me, but--

Damn. Okay, then again, maybe the bitch would double cross me. Secreting myself in an alley across from the building, keeping to the deepening shadows, I watch a small figure enter the alleyway beside the church. Unless Diandra has gotten considerably shorter, it's not her. I hear a car coming up the street and duck further back into the darkness as it passes. The fleeting impression of the buzz I get from all other Immortals teases my spine and I observe as the Jeep Wagoneer pulls into the parking lot beside the little church. 

She steps out of the car, her head twisting on her neck as if searching for something. Clearly she has felt my own presence. With a small shrug, she slams the driver's door shut and walks into the gray stone church. She knows I'm here. Now to find out who the figure in the alleyway next to the church is.

I changed my footwear earlier, opting for the black, soft-soled shoes I picked up in Hong Kong, and they hide my progress well as I cross the street and enter the alley. It doesn't take me long to spot my prey. Smoothly, quietly, I pull my sword and sneak up on the man looking in the window of the church. Placing my blade alongside his neck, my voice a mere whisper, I confront this furtive foe.

"Move, and you're dead." 

His hands, which had braced his weight on the windowsill, rise in surrender. "No problem."

The voice is familiar to me and I reach out to pull the hat he is wearing from his head. Long, riotous curls spill forth. "Mr. Sandburg. Sneaking about this part of town can not be conducive to good health." I put a hand on his shoulder and turn him to face me.

His eyes widen as he realizes it is my sword resting at the base of his throat. "Apparently not. Look, I'll make you a deal, you let me go and I'll leave here. Fair enough?"

"No." Reaching out with my free hand, I push back the cuff of his left sleeve, exposing the mark on his wrist. "You're a Watcher, an Observer of Immortals." He opens his mouth, maybe to protest, but I tap his chin with the tip of my sword. "Don't deny it, Sandburg. I've been around too long, seen too many of your kind. You dog our heels, watching us, chronicling our lives. That is your job."

"Lady, I haven't a clue what you're talking about. I'm a student of Anthropology-- "

My patience snaps and I backhand him, spinning him into the wall. Before he can recover, I've gotten behind him, my blade at his throat while my other hand covers his mouth. My next words are not pleasant. "No, Mr. Sandburg, you are not merely a anthropologist. For now, consider yourself part of the Game." I place my mouth right next to his ear, my voice lower than before and cold as the windswept plains of Siberia. "You are not Immortal. One more word from you and I'll kill you. Slowly. Do you understand?"

This young Watcher is wise as he barely nods his head, wary, I suppose, of the sharp steel lying next to his Adam's apple.

"Good. Now, you are an observer, so I'm inviting you to watch a meeting on Holy Ground between two Immortals. You and I are going to walk into the church. My blade will be between us so don't think I won't kill you should you try to warn Diandra." I let go of his mouth and push him towards the side door of the church. "Gentlemen first."

As he opens the door, I hear him start to mumble and reward him with a slap on the hip with the flat of my sword. "Not a word, Watcher. No more warnings." 

Damn! The Sanctuary is near dark, lit only by flickering candle light. The tingling running through my spine and into my head grows more persistent, telling me Diandra is very near. I sheath my sword, pulling a long dagger instead. The faintest noise turns my attention to the left and I snake my arm around the Watcher's neck and my blade caresses his throat once more.

"Let Blair go, Eolia."

I spin myself and my human shield around, looking for the owner of the soft, cold voice. "And give up my shield? I don't think so, Pythia! Show yourself!"

"He's not a part of the Game. You want to challenge me, fine. But you leave Blair out of this."

Damn it, where is she? In the tight confines of this holy place I cannot use her buzz to locate her, for it fairly bounces off the walls, confusing me. "Show yourself, Diandra, and I'll let your little Watcher friend go." The subject of the discussion starts to struggle in my arms, but a slight increase of pressure on my dagger against his tender throat stills his movements. "Be still, little mortal and you'll live to see the sunrise." The threat drips from my lips into his ear.

"He'd better." 

I inhale sharply as I once again spin my captive and I to face that voice, and she is there. The long katana I recall from our meeting in Bonn is at the ready at her side. "Finally. Thank you, Diandra." I'm none too gentle as I release my hold on Blair Sandburg and push him towards her. "See? I honor my word, unlike you. This was to be a private meeting, yet you dare to let your little mortal tag along." 

Sweeping her blade aside, Diandra catches the young man before he can fall into the pew I pushed him towards. As I watch, she gently checks him over, looking for damage, I guess, and finding it. His lower lip is bleeding slightly from when I backhanded him earlier. 

Her voice is low, but not low enough to keep from echoing in the empty sanctuary and allowing me to hear her words. "Lobo, are you okay? What in the hell were you thinking?" Whatever his reply, far too low for me to overhear, it doesn't please my old friend. The dark eyes she turns on me are full of suspicion and distrust. 

"You wanted to meet, Eolia, I'm here. But I swear to you, touch him again and I'll gladly separate your head from your shoulders."

Oh, dear! The passion in her voice! She cares for this mortal! I grin as I move to sit in the pew closest to the altar, wondering how I can play the trump card she has just handed me. "On Holy Ground, Diandra? I think not, unless you want this church to fall like Delphi. I don't relish the idea of being buried alive again, but I've survived far worse, believe me."

_**Ancient Greece, Delphi approx 750 BC** _

_I follow her, as always, from a distance._

_This place is special; I sense that. I've been here a near full turning of the seasons and I'm slowly learning the language, thanks to her, Diandra. She had trouble, at first, pronouncing my name, so she and the others here have taken to calling me Lia. I still don't understand what it is Diandra, my savior, does here, but it must be important. Every day there are more and more people coming to see her, asking for favors, offering all manners of gifts in return for a few words._

_I've taken it upon myself to serve the lady, helping her in any way I can. But I never, never touch the white robes she wears. I can't. I'd get them dirty. But I do other things, keeping the vermin away from her chambers, cleaning her rooms and helping others to keep the rest of this place clean. The others that live here avoid me. A few times, when no one knew I was about, I overheard them talking in the servants quarters. "Unnatural." "Touched by the Gods." And those are just the words I understand._

_I follow Diandra whenever she leaves her chambers; no matter where she goes, I follow. This bright morning I follow her into the sacred place, the temple. It is here the people gather to hear the strange words that come from her when she enters the mists rising from a crack in the floor. An older man, dressed in similar robes stands close to her and tells the hopeful what her words mean. But he truly doesn't. At least, I don't think so. And she's so tired when she finishes these meetings she often leans on me when I escort her back to her chambers._

_Today is different. As I follow her into the temple, I feel a sharp, tingling sensation run up my back and instantly, I know I must be on alert for danger. I run to catch up to her, my sandals slapping on the hard floor._

_"Lady D! Lady D!"_

_She turns to face me, her eyes wide in surprise. "Lia? What is it?"_

_I've never spoken to her before, not in public, and the men and women surrounding her gasp in shock at the words I've spoken. I drop to my knees and pluck at her hem, "Mistress, don't go in the mists today. There is danger, I know it!"_

_"Foolishness, Dorian. What can this servant girl know of the future?" The Priest pulls me to my feet, handing me over to a temple guardian. "Take her back to the Dorian's Chambers--"_

_I start to fight the guardian, frantic to stay close to her. Her voice breaks through the noise I'm making in my struggles._

_"No, Vasilis. Let her stay. She knows not to break the ceremony, and she'll only harm herself trying to get back here should we send her away."_

_The guard releases me and I return to her side, her hand resting on my shoulder as we walk towards the temple. The feeling of danger gets stronger and stronger the closer we get to the sacred place. I clutch the knife I hid among my clothes long ago. No one knows I have this blade, but I swear, no harm will come to Diandra. Not if I can help it._

* * *

Diandra sheathed her sword, gesturing for Blair to sit, and he did, on the bench across the aisle from Eolia. The Amazon remained on her feet. "We're not here to share old war stories, now are we? Why are you here?"

For the first time, the hard glint in the other Immortal's eyes seemed to soften. She stared at her hands for a moment, then glanced up toward the front of the church, avoiding Diandra's gaze. "Azir's dead," she finally said quietly, her voice catching on his name.

Dee took a step back, her hand going to Blair's shoulder, his warmth reassuring her he was safe and blessedly alive. "Goddess, Lia, I'm so sorry."

The smaller woman turned her face toward her, unshed tears glistening in her eyes. "I'm so lost, Dorian. It hurts so much--"

Moving into the pew, Dee ran her hand lightly over the distraught woman's hair. With a small, inarticulate sob, Eolia buried her face in Dee's stomach, wrapping her arms around her waist, and crying softly. "I'm so tired. I just want it to be over, I don't want to live without him, it's too painful. He was the only person who ever understood me, who ever loved me for me-- "

Diandra slid into the seat next to the other Immortal, letting Eolia cry on her shoulder as Dee stroked her back. She looked up for a moment, her eyes meeting Blair's. He was watching her with a mixture of curiosity and compassion on his expressive face. 

After a few minutes, Eolia sat up, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve. "Sorry, didn't mean to get you all wet."

Giving her a smile, Dee said, "It's all right. Now talk to me. What happened to Azir? And what's this about being tired?"

The other woman ran a hand over her face. "It's not really clear; I wasn't there, but I found out it was a headhunter, one who doesn't play by the rules. Azir was shot first, then they took his head."

"Do you have a name?"

She shook her head. "No, no one I've asked has heard of him, though this doesn't seem to be the first time he's done this. I've searched for him for three months, but I'm giving it up now. It all seems so-- useless. It won't bring him back, and every day that goes by is like another weight being added to my soul. I came to Cascade looking for you because Methos wouldn't grant my request. I'm hoping you will. I don't want to play the Game any more, Diandra."

Diandra had had an idea this was the direction the conversation was headed, but it still came as something of a shock. "I know how much you're hurting, Lia. I've been there. I spent two hundred years trapped inside my own mind because I couldn't deal with losing Lydia. And there was a time only a few months ago when I thought about giving up again, when I thought it just hurt too much to go on, and 2,800 years was enough."

"What made you think otherwise?"

"I found the mate of my heart." A gasp from Blair made her turn and smile at the stunned expression on his face. "I found out there's more than one love of a lifetime. It may be a thousand years in coming, but once you find it, all the heartache and the pain disappear." 

Eolia gave her an incredulous look. "Lia, I know you don't want to think that right now, that the thought of someone other than Azir sharing your heart feels like a betrayal. But I think you owe it to yourself and to him to give yourself some time. Three months is nothing to us. Give yourself time to grieve for him, and time to heal. And well, if that takes a couple years, then so be it. If you want me to take your head then, I will. But right now, I know it's the grief and fear and anger talking, not you. Who knows? You might walk out of here today and run into the person who will change everything for you."

Lia shook her head, and got to her feet with a growl. "You just don't understand-- "

"Yes, I do. I know exactly where you're coming from, and I'm not going to let your emotional reaction to Azir's death influence my decision. You are in no shape to make a life or death decision for yourself, so I'm going to make it for you." She rose to her full height and stared down at the smaller woman. "My answer is no. I will not take your head."

Eolia moved out into the aisle, pausing as she passed Blair, who had gotten to his feet when Dee did. "That's funny, you seemed awfully free with the threats earlier, when my blade was at your mortal's throat." 

She went for her long dagger again, but this time Blair was ready for her. Grabbing her wrist, he dug his fingers into the pressure point there. The knife fell to the floor, the steel ringing on the flagstone as he brought her arm up behind her back and wrapped his other arm around her neck. This time it was his turn to whisper in her ear. "Just because I'm mortal, doesn't make me helpless."

"Lobo, you've proved your point. Let her go. You will leave here peacefully, Lia." It was not a request.

The Celtoi nodded slowly. "Yes, Dorian. I will leave, for now." Blair released his hold on her, and pocketing her blade, she stormed up the aisle and out of the church.

* * *

Damn, damn, damn! The last Immortal I trusted to grant my wish, and she turned me down! Why?!

I try to calm myself on the drive back to the Excelsior, but my mind refuses to settle and my body is practically singing for release. So many thoughts crowd in on me, memories of the past, plans for the immediate future, the upcoming job I have to do at QuestScape. Unbidden, the voice of my dearly departed husband fills my head as the accompanying memory crashes into my mind.

_You must fight to contain your fiery temper, Eolia. You weren't able to obtain the information we need with your methods, so now we use mine." He's gathering the items he needs to gain access to the Embassy._

_I lash out, kicking a footstool across the small room of the apartment we've based ourselves out of here in Saigon. "Damn it, that's just it, Azir! I've never failed before. Never!"_

_He shrugs, his dark eyes full of repressed laughter. "Until you met me, you never had a man who was impervious to your charms." His movements are graceful, flowing as he walks over to me, his large hand chucking me under the chin, bringing my eyes to meet with his. "And I must admit, I am not as immune as I'd like to think."_

_He ducks his head in, his sensuous lips closing over mine, and slowly I feel the anger drain from me. His arms hold me close to his hard body, one toned through centuries of fighting and stealthy movements, but finally he pulls away, taking his warmth with him._

_"Maybe the analysts are wrong this time, maybe there just isn't any hard data for me to worm out of the French attaché."_

_"I'm afraid not, ma petite. For once, I think the brains in the basement at Langley are right. Now, will you watch my back? Or shall I ask one of the other agents to help me?" His hands grip my shoulders, those mischievous dark eyes boring into mine, seeking the answer he wants._

_I break his hold on me, walk over to the closet where I start to pull out the dark outfit I use only for such times as these. "What do you think?" I'm still mad as hell, but I've a job to do and, though I hate to admit it, my husband is right. One day, my temper will be my downfall._

Shaking off the memory, I turn down the street, my destination in sight. Everything I wanted, everything I desired, all has come crashing down. All that is left for me is WindHawk Securities and the job at QuestScape, and then, maybe, I'll stop to consider what Diandra said. My throat tightens as I try to think of continuing my life without my husband by my side. It feels like a betrayal most foul. I long to join him in the afterlife, I need to. My mood is still quite grim when I pull the rented Lexus RX 300 under the covered entrance and the young valet opens the driver's door for me. 

Stalking into the hotel's lobby, I find a glowering Jan-Michel waiting for me, an embarrassed John David by his side. I brush past them, growling under my breath, "I don't want to hear it, LaFollet. Not now."

I hear him dismiss John as I enter the elevator; before the doors can close my Watcher puts his foot in the track and they spring back open. I endure his silent anger as we ride to the 15th floor where I once again leave him behind to walk to my suite. I slam the door in his face.

I snort in idle amusement when he walks through the door anyway. Guess I forgot he has a damn passkey. I slip out of my long coat, carelessly throwing both the coat and my blades on the couch as I walk towards the bedroom.

"Stop right there." Not only is his voice full of anger, but the hand clamping down on my shoulder is hard in its grip.

Too many years of hiding and running from my enemies, both mortal and immortal alike, give me skills that tend to rise up when I'm pissed off. My hand comes up as I spin on my toes, knocking his hand away from my shoulder. I follow through with a fast blow towards his throat, which he barely blocks, my blow landing on his left cheek, slicing it open. He doesn't even blink and his slap to my face catches me off guard, spinning me away from him. He takes advantage of my distraction and pulls me into a nearly crushing bear hug. 

As I struggle to gain my release, his calm voice trickles in my ears. "Lee, enough. Stop it! I'm sorry, but you have to calm down."

He obviously took great care to watch how Azir dealt with me when I was in such a dark mood. It takes several deep breaths before I start to relax, and he releases me from his grasp. Slowly, I turn to face him and see the damage I've done. "Oh, Gods! Jan, I'm sorry." I trace gentle fingers just below the cut I gave him, noticing the swelling which is already rising.

"I'll be okay." He takes my hand in his and touches me under the chin softly, to make me look into his eyes. "Now, where did you go when you managed to ditch Mr. David? And where did this mood come from?"

Shaking my head, I walk away from his caring gaze, my mood lessening in its intensity. "I had to meet someone. I couldn't have any witnesses, especially John. Or yourself." I enter the bathroom, wet down a washrag and return to his side.

"You met with another Immortal, didn't you?" I sigh, nodding my head in agreement as I clean the blood from his face. "Damn it, Eolia! Who was it? Was it a Challenge? Why didn't you tell me and how in the hell did they get past me and my security teams?"

Throwing the now bloody cloth at him, I answer. "I got past your security teams, it wasn't a challenge and it was an old friend. That's all you need to know."

"There can't be that many Immortals here in Cascade. I'll find out who it is, you know that, so why not tell me now, Lee?" 

I let him stew in silence as I start to gather up the equipment I need to take on the security systems at QuestScape, placing everything in a small, black backpack. "Diandra Pallas."

My soft answer sends him into motion. He's on the cell phone he rarely uses, obviously calling his contact in the Watcher Organization. "Joe Dawson, please. Thank you." He steps from the room, his conversation lost to me. 

By the time he returns, fifteen minutes later, I'm ready to storm the bastions of a multi-million dollar corporation. And from the look on my Watcher's face, he's ready to pull me out of town, contracts be damned.

"I can't let you do this, not tonight, Lee."

"Sorry, I have to. Honor of the company and all that jazz." I slip into a black sweater, then pull my hair back up into the French twist and pull a black knit cap on. 

"Pallas is bad news, Lee. She came out of the Outback of Australia like some vengeful wraith. In three years she's collected over seven Quickenings; she's on the hunt and back in the Game after who knows how long."

I laugh. "You think I care? Jan-Michel, I have a job to do and I have to do it tonight. If you're so concerned about my welfare, contact Diandra's Watcher and talk with him. Maybe he can keep her busy while I'm at QuestScape."

Oh dear, I shocked him. 

"How do you know Pallas' Watcher is a man?"

"I met him tonight. Nice looking kid, about 30, student at Rainier University. One hell of a grip too." I rub my wrist where young Mr. Sandburg had dug in his nimble fingers, causing me to drop my blade earlier.

His hazel eyes narrow, suspicions glowing from within. "Did you happen to ask him his name while you were at it? And did Pallas see him?"

"Blair Sandburg. And, no, Diandra didn't see him," I lie, protecting Diandra and her mortal lover. The Watchers are very strict about how much contact is supposed to occur between a Watcher and the Immortal they watch. There was some kind of trial a few years back, and the rules relaxed a bit, but I really don't think a Watcher is supposed to take his Immortal to bed with him. 

"Let me go with you tonight to watch your back."

"Fine. Let's go." I toss the backpack at him along with the keys to the Lexus. "You drive. We're behind schedule as it is."

* * *

As the heavy church door closed with a loud boom behind the upset Immortal, Diandra turned to Blair. "And just what were you thinking when you decided to come here?"

He chewed the inside of his lip, wincing as he accidentally ran his teeth over his cut. "I should have talked to you, I know, but, well, obviously you didn't want me to know you were meeting Eolia. I mean, you called her this morning and then never bothered to tell me about it. So I figured it would be okay if I just didn't tell you I was going to be here. You said yourself last night she was unpredictable. What if this had been a setup? What if for some totally bogus reason she was pissed at you again, and wanted your head?"

"Lobo--"

"No, just listen to me, this could have been a trap, a setup to get you alone somewhere. I don't care if it is Holy Ground, that just guarantees she won't kill you here, not that she wouldn't do anything else, which you saw, she had no qualms about doing." He gestured at his face. "I couldn't let her do that to you. I had to be here. I had to do whatever I could to keep you safe."

"Blair, I know you don't want anything to happen to me, but it's not your place. You know the rules, you can't interfere. The Watchers could kill you for what you've done."

"I wasn't going to interfere. I just want you to have a fighting chance, for it to be a fair fight. And as for the Watchers, Joe knew I was in a relationship with you when he asked me to join. Look, Dee, I don't want to argue with you. It's over, it's done, you're okay, and I'm okay. Everything turned out all right, didn't it?" 

The worry and fear in his eyes burned into her, and when she didn't answer him right away, he asked again, his voice soft and uncertain. "It is okay, right? We are okay, aren't we?"

Goddess, she couldn't stay mad at him, it just wasn't possible, not when he looked at her like that. She moved closer to him, wrapping her arms around him in an embrace. "We are always okay, Lobo, always." His hold on her tightened, and he gave her one of his brilliant, blinding smiles.

"What about Eolia?"

"What about her?"

"You know she's not exactly stable, Dee."

"I know. But she's a big girl, Blair, she has to get through this on her own. If she wants my help, I'll give it, but I won't let her talk me into doing something that could turn out to be a permanent solution to a temporary problem. But thanks for being concerned about her. That's one of the things I really love about you, your ability to see beyond the surface, into people's souls." She ran her hand over his cheek, bending in to kiss him gently, careful of his injury.

"Hey, you think you could do your thing on my face? Just so Jim doesn't go all ballistic on me."

"Sure, hold still." Dee held her hand over his cheek for a moment, concentrating, watching the bruise and cut vanish. "So," she said when she was done, linking her arm through his and heading up the aisle, "Jim still on stakeout tonight?"

"Yeah, why do you ask?"

"Just thought we could spend a little time alone. You know, a little food, a little music, a little dancing, a little kissing, a little touching--"

"Oh, you mean a repeat of last night." He grinned at her again, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek.

She ruffled his curls affectionately as they left the church. "Yeah, exactly like that."


	2. Chapter 2

As Jan-Michel turns down the road leading to the massive Cascade Office Park, I reach into my backpack and pull out and activate the jamming device I stuffed in there earlier. "Park in the south parking lot." I adjust the black knit cap on my head, thanking the Gods the temperature has dropped low enough the item will not seem out of place.

"You brought the radios?" His voice is calm as he pulls into the lot I indicated, which is conveniently located between the two largest corporate offices in the Park, QuestScape to the south and Complexium Communications to the north.

Handing over the second radio, I clip the earphone into place, hiding its cord under the turtle necked sweater I'm wearing. "Preset to channel 28. And before you ask, yes, that is a secure channel."

He parks in a spot close to the front doors of QuestScape then turns to me in the dimly lit cab. "I still think we should put this off another night, make sure everything is on the up and up."

I place my hand on his arm, effectively stilling his protest. "No. I do this, now, tonight. Sharee is already expecting me, I can't risk calling her back to cancel." The muscles under my hand tense, then relax as he fights the logic I've laid out before him. Then he simply nods, resigned to the idea. Patting his arm, letting him know I understand his concerns, I reach up and activate the throat mic hidden under the neck of my sweater. 

"How long should I give you before I start to worry?"

"One hour."

"Too long. Forty-five minutes, then I come in after you."

The man cares but this is the first time he's backed me up without Azir helping him out. "Wrong. If I'm not out in forty-five minutes, you drive off and wait for me back at the fallback point."

"Fine." He checks his watch. "It's time. Get going."

I smile. His gruff voice tells me he's no longer happy with the plan the team came up with, but I really have no choice. Stepping out of the Lexus, I shrug my backpack high onto my shoulder and walk towards the target. A light snow has begun to fall, the pale light from the sodium street lamps glinting off the small, crystalline flakes.

My boot heels hitting the flag stone path sound sharp in the crisp, cold air, announcing my arrival at the doors to QuestScape. Pulling open the door, I step into the nearly deserted lobby, shaking the snow from my shoulders. As predicted, the lone security guard posted behind the reception desk challenges my presence.

"Can I help you, Miss?" He's an older man, roughly in his late fifties, who has the bearing of a former military man or maybe a retired cop. I read his nametag as I step forward.

"I hope so. My car had the audacity to break down in the parking lot. I'm hoping my friend here hasn't left for the night and can give me a lift home."

"You work around here?" 

I point over my shoulder. "Just started last week over at Complexium."

He picks up a clipboard and scans it. "Not too many folks still here. What's your friend's name, Miss?"

I fluster a bit. "Sorry, I'm being rude. LeAnne Crowley. My friend is Sharee Milton. I think she works in Information Services here." I hold out my hand, inviting him to shake it, which he does. 

"Yeah, Mrs. Milton is still logged in the building; let me call her for you." He picks up the phone and dials a four-digit number. "Mrs. Milton? There's a LeAnne Crowley here... Yeah, that's her. Her car broke down and she's... Yes, ma'am. I'll send her up." As he hangs up the phone, something catches his attention and he bangs a fist against the table, where I can't see it.

"Problem, Mr. Bailey?" I try to lean over the counter, but I can't see anything, it's too high.

"Damn monitors are acting up again. Nothing new. They've been working on them for a month." He hands me the clipboard and a pen. "If you'll just sign in, I'll send you up to the fifth floor where your friend is working." He's not going to escort me? Sloppy, sloppy. But it'll work to my advantage. 

I sigh as I place my signature on the indicated line. "I guess I won't make it home in time to watch the last part of the game after all." Handing him the board, I take the visitor's pass he gives to me.

"Not much of a game tonight. KC's walking all over Dallas. Take the second elevator, and don't forget to sign back out when you and Mrs. Milton leave. I may be on rounds when you do and the doors are scheduled to lock in about ten minutes."

I clip the badge to my coat lapel and look up at him, startled. "Locked? Will we be able to get out if you're not here?"

He chuckles. "Yeah, you can get out of here after nine, but unless you have one of our employee badges, you won't be able to get back in."

"Oh." With a small wave and a quiet word of thanks, I walk over to the elevators; the one in the middle of the five car bank opens for me. The doors close and I know, by now, Mr. Bailey is cursing yet another monitor. The jamming device I wear is powerful; once it scrambles a camera, that camera stays scrambled until a technician can repair the damage. The doors open at the fifth floor and I step out, looking for the nearest stairwell.

Off to my left I see the door I need, complete with the automatic alarm on it. Opening my backpack, I pull out another device and place it on top of the alarm box. The LED lights on the device go from red to green in seconds and I push open the door, the alarm silenced. So far, I'm not impressed with the security measures I've seen.

The door to the fourth floor has the same type of alarm system and I pull out a twin to the gadget I used earlier, disabling it. Before stepping through the door, I key the mic at my throat. "Zephyr to Harrier, fourth floor."

\\\ Roger. Twelve minutes.\\\

Bless him, keeping track of how much time I've spent so far on the job. I step through the door, recalling the floor plans in my head. I walk down the hall, past the elevators to a large door with a card reader beside it. I knew this would be here and I've already pulled another electronic piece of equipment from my bag of tricks. Inserting the card into the slot, I activate the machine and let it do its work. Within ten seconds I hear the lock on the door disengage and push it open.

There are only a few widely spaced desk lamps in the lab, casting their dim light into the room. Cautiously I walk over to the workstation Mr. Ventriss had told me about, my boots barely making any noise as I cross the linoleum flooring. I learned, years and years ago, how to walk silently in boots. My eyes search the table, but see nothing resembling the DVD drive I was to have found. Digging into my back pocket I start to pull out the business card I wrote my little 'I was here, your security sux' note on, when I feel it.

The crawling sensation moving up my neck, tingling in my skull, warns me and I mentally curse as I duck behind the station, hiding.

The form stepping into the room is backlit by the lights in the hall; not too tall, slender, armed. Damn! Just what I didn't need! How many fucking Immortals are there in Cascade? I finger the long dagger, a short sword actually, hiding in the lining of my coat. I flinch as the figure hits the light switch and floods the lab with the bright, fluorescent light.

"You may as well come out. I know you're here, Immortal!" So, the figure identifies himself as a man.

Blinking away the tears in my eyes, I stand up, pulling my blade, and look at the challenger. "This isn't exactly the time or the place for this, you know."

"Like I care?" He raises his shotgun and aims in my direction. Not thinking, I throw myself to the side and raise my sword. Something hits my blade, knocking it from my hand and sending it through the window behind me. The sounds of shattering glass and blaring alarms ring out. 

"Fuck!" The male, masked Immortal takes another shot at me. I barely manage to dodge it and feel the pain of something slamming into my temple. I fall to the floor, attempting to hold back the encroaching darkness. Over the earpiece, I hear Jan-Michel yelling for me to respond to him, but I can't. Rolling over onto my back I look up to see my attacker looming over me. "Too bad I didn't bring my blade and you lost yours, bitch. Another time." With those words, the man kicks me in the head and I spiral into the depths of the engulfing abyss.

* * *

With a sigh, Jim Ellison considered the options before him. He had a killer headache. The elevator was out, again. Three flights of stairs lay between him and his goal, the bottle of aspirin on the left side of the third shelf in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom of the loft. His only alternative was to stop at a drugstore, and make himself and Connor even later for their stakeout. Another sigh escaped his lips as he grasped the railing and began the upward trek.

At the first landing, he realized someone had Madonna's Ray of Light CD cranked up loud. His head began to throb in time with the pulsing bass line, and her hypnotic voice was making his teeth ache. _Kiss me I'm dying/Put your hand on my skiiiiii-in._ No wonder this country was going to pot. No one listened to good music anymore. On the second landing, he realized the annoying song was coming from his apartment. "Jesus, Sandburg, have some consideration for the neighbors." 

Reaching the door of 307, he pulled the keys out of his pocket and shoved them in the lock. Opening the door with a savage twist of his wrist, he stomped inside, intending to give his roommate a tongue-lashing. Only there was no one in sight. The loft was dark, and the doors to Blair's room were closed. Jim attempted to check for his partner with his hearing, but he couldn't cut through Madonna, and right now, those aspirin were more important. He made his way quickly down the hallway to the bathroom, grabbed the bottle and headed back to the living area just in time to see a dark head of hair along with a pair of bare shoulders rise above the back of the couch.

The music faded into the background, and all Jim could hear was the racing heart and labored breathing of his guide, along with, "God, angel," and a long, drawn-out "pleeeeease…"

The object of his plea tossed her head, flinging her long hair back over her shoulder, exposing cleavage, and then Jim found a pair of electric blue eyes boring into his own. Diandra's eyes widened in surprise, and a soft "Oops," issued from her mouth.

"Oops? What do you mean oops?" was Blair's puzzled response. Jim flicked on the overhead lights. His guide's face appeared over the sofa cushions. "Oh shit! Jim!" He disappeared again, then hopped to his feet, the afghan that normally graced the back of the couch covering him from the hips down, his cheeks a brilliant crimson. "Jim, man, what are you doing here? I thought you were on stakeout tonight!"

Ellison felt a blush creeping over his face also, as Diandra rose to her feet in back of Blair, then wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, using his body to hide her own. From the cool expression on her face, Jim knew her modesty was more for his benefit than hers. He mentally shook himself, trying not to dwell on the sensual image they portrayed. "I am on stakeout. Just needed some aspirin." He waved the bottle at them. "Um, I'll be going now, Connor's waiting downstairs."

"Oh! Tell Megan I said 'hi' and I'll see her this weekend," Dee said perkily. 

"Yeah, uh, right." Jim managed to find the door handle and let himself out. He took the stairs two at a time, but he still couldn't tune out their voices.

"Oh, man, I can't believe that just happened! How come you didn't hear him?"

"I was concentrating on you, lover," Dee purred. "All my senses were locked onto you, sight, sound, smell…touch…" Jim heard the afghan hit the floor.

"Oooh…yeah…."

"And taste..."

"Oh…god…yeah…."

Jim yanked open the door to the street just as a car horn blared. He winced in pain, but thankfully was finally able to get hold of the volume control and turn it down, blessedly blocking out the rest of the lovers' conversation, though Jim doubted it could be called that for much longer. Striding over to the blue-and-white pickup, he climbed into the driver's seat and slammed the door. 

"Whoa, Jimbo, what's got you all shirty?"

He shook his head, wincing, and reached over the back of the seat to grab a bottle of water. Tossing a couple of pills back, he chased them with a long squirt from the water bottle then started the car. "Believe me, Connor, you don't want to know."

By the time they'd spent thirty minutes sitting in a cold car amidst the towering glass and steel structures of Cascade Office Park, Jim had changed his mind and was telling Connor exactly what to expect when she moved in with Dee after the first of the year. 

"I mean, she has a perfectly good loft right across the hall. I don't see why they have to always be going at it on my living room floor."

Connor giggled. "On the floor?"

"Yes, on the floor. I asked Sandburg about it, and he said his bed's too small. There's a king-size bed in her apartment, but no, that's not romantic enough. Diandra's place doesn't have a fireplace. They didn't even have the damn thing lit tonight!" He exhaled through clenched teeth. "And they were using the sofa. I hope they had the presence of mind to put a sheet over it. Do you know how hard it is to get that kind of stain out? Never mind the smell. Sandburg usually ends up burning some kind of weird incense to cover it up, and then I spend the whole night sneezing."

Megan laughed again. "Sounds to me like you're a little envious, Ellison. But I think once I move up to Seacouver, she won't feel so compelled to spend all her time here. Besides, I think it's kind of cute. Young love and all that."

Jim snorted and stared out the windshield, then jerked as if he'd been struck.

"What?"

"That sounded like a shotgun blast." As he spoke, the loud clarion of an alarm pierced the air.

"Bugger! That's not our building!"

Jim shook his head and started the truck, peeling out of the parking place. "No, it's QuestScape!"

* * *

When I struggle back to awareness, I reach up and activate the mic at my throat. "Harrier?"

\\\Christ, Zephyr! What the hell happened? Did I hear what I thought I heard?\\\ 

I gingerly touch my temple, my fingers coming into contact with sticky blood, but I feel the wound closing already. "Never mind that. How long?"

\\\Five minutes since that bastard last spoke to you.\\\ There's a pause then, \\\Shit, Zeph, get out of there, police are responding to shots fired and the alarms!\\\

"Damn. Can you see the security guard? Where is he?" I start to walk towards the lab exit, hoping I can make it to the stairwell and up to Sharee's office before the guard and/or the police show up.

\\\Looks like he locked off the elevators and is about to enter the stairwell. You have to use the backup plan.\\\

The backup plan. Crap. I do an about face on the floor and run over to the window that was blown out by the shotgun blast which had somehow disarmed me of my sword. I look out through the broken glass and cringe. "This is not going to be pretty." Stepping up onto the narrow windowsill, I look down to the ground below. The snow which has been falling hasn't stuck, so my method of flight will not be easily detected. I hope.

The landing wasn't the most graceful, my knees bending to take the impact. I roll to help the kinetic energy of jumping from a fourth story window dissipate. Unfortunately, I heard the bones in my right ankle snap when I landed. Biting my lip to hold back the pain, I manage to regain my footing and hobble away from the building. "Harrier, meet me at the fallback point. I'll be a little late, damn ankle broke." I nearly trip over my sword as I walk. There's a wire twined around the blade, two small balls attached to either end of the wire. I can't take it with me, nor can I just leave it for the cops to find. "I found my sword, Harrier. Don't ask, I'll update you later, for now, help me to remember I tossed it into the large pine on the east side." With a heave, I do just that. With a solid thunk, the sword actually manages to lodge itself in a high branch, well out of sight.

\\\Roger, Zephyr. What the hell? Who are y...\\\ BLAM! BLAM!

The sound of gunfire coming over the earpiece nearly deafens me. My heart starts to race as I fear somehow the Immortal who had challenged me in the lab has found my friend. I start to run, as best as I can on what now feels like a sprained ankle, intent on reaching my Watcher.

"Freeze! Police!" 

I skid to a halt, looking down the barrel of a rather lethal looking gun. Raising my hands, I look beyond the gun and up into the face of a tall woman with long auburn hair.

"Down on the ground, hands behind your head."

An Australian? A little out of her jurisdiction, but I comply with the orders, carefully dropping my backpack before dropping to my knees, then my stomach. As the female cop, probably a detective seeing as she's not in uniform, frisks me, I feel it. The tingling sensation warns me of an approaching Immortal, then the sound of tires squalling in the parking lot and more gunfire reaches my ears. The feel of cold metal snapping around my wrists brings me back to my immediate situation.

The Australian hauls me to my feet and, grabbing my right elbow tightly, starts to walk me towards the parking lot. The pain flaring from my arm tells me she's got hold of a pressure point. "Let go of my arm, you Aussie Amazon."

"Sorry, mate. Not just yet." She actually tightens her grip and my temper flares.

"Let go of me." As the last word escapes my mouth, I pivot on my right heel and my leg flashes out, the toes of my left foot connecting with the woman's thigh, hitting her in the nerve junction. She drops to the ground, pulling me down with her.

"Bugger!" The curse explodes from her, and even with my hands cuffed behind my back, I'm back on my feet before she can rise to hers. I'm mad, worried about Jan-Michel, and need to get the hell away from here. I aim a snapping front kick at the downed officer, only to be tackled from the side.

I feel the hand on the back of my neck, pinning me to the ground as the growling baritone voice above my head asks, "Connor, you okay?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Jim. I can't believe the damn gell got the drop on me."

The man holding me down actually chuckles. "This little thing? Losing your touch, Megan?"

"Snog off, Jimbo." I hear the woman gasp as she tries to put weight on the leg I just smacked. "Oooh, that's going to bruise."

Once again, I'm hauled to my feet and I'm finally able to get a look at the man who tackled me. I'm looking at his chest then my gaze flows up to his face and my heart thuds in my chest. It can't be, it's not possible! His light colored eyes, barely discernible in the pale orange light of the street lamps, narrow, and his hands tighten their hold on me. Good thing. For the second time in this overly fucked up evening, I lose myself to the darkness.

_**Scotland, 1583** _

_I've been traveling with the tinkers, what some would call gypsies, in the Highlands of Scotland for about six months. Earning my way as a dancer, pleasuring only those men I choose to pleasure, and tonight, I've chosen the best._

_The new Laird of Clan MacAlasdair is young, tall, handsome as sin, and possessing eyes so blue I want to drown myself in them. With the skirts swirling around my calves, the blouse I wear dipping off my shoulders, allowing the young Laird a glimpse of my not so inconsiderable charms, I dance only for him. The scarves I hold in my hands trail across his shoulders, teasing him, as he sits back and watches me with eyes darkening in passion. The players, the true gypsies, start playing the scintillating tune at a faster tempo, challenging me to keep pace._

_The other Scotsmen gathered around the large fire clap their hands to keep the rhythm at a furious pace, and boisterously encourage the young man before me to try to catch the end of the belt falling from my waist, an age old token of choosing. If he catches the belt, I go to him. Once, twice, he misses the catch. I'm just about to give in to my base desire, to slow down, when he catches the belt and pulls me into his lap._

_Out of breath, but not caring, I pull his smooth shaven face to mine and kiss him deeply, accepting him as much as he's chosen me. The wolf whistles and howls from his clansmen greet my actions._

_"Watch it, William, or the fire-headed gypsy lass may just take your life as she looks for that gold you swallowed earlier."_

_He breaks away from the kiss, and I purr in my throat, missing, already, the tongue which had danced in my mouth. "Argyle, haud yer wheest!"_

_The men laugh and the one called Argyle roars out, "Same to ye, William. Or better yet, ask the lass to help you!" I know not what I am to supposed to help the young Laird do, but I smile as I pull his attention back to me and tease his full lips with a light, flickering, taste of my mouth. I can feel his desire for my body rising beneath the kilt he wears, the muscle twitching and bucking against my thigh. I'm forced to hold on to his powerful neck as he lifts me when he rises to his feet._

_"Clansmen, honored guests, I bid you to celebrate all night if you wish. I have other things to do this night." He carries me like I weigh no more than the thistle down that floats in the air. "Lass, which wagon is yours?" I point out the wagon parked at the far end of the camp, furthest away from the bonfire, then I tighten my grasp on his shoulders and swing my legs downward, only to raise them back up and clasp my thighs around his hips._

_"If you don't mind, Laird, I don't think I can wait that long. Can you?" I feel his arms clasp me around my own waist and I reach down between us to pull my skirt higher and pull his kilt up as well. My hands explore the wealth of man I've found, testing its weight and I feel the slickness of his arousal, which causes me to become aware of my own needs. His gait increases in its speed, and soon, we're on the other side of a wagon, hidden from the firelight, with my back braced against the wagon's wall._

_The kisses we share are nearly animalistic in nature, nipping and biting tender flesh without hurting. He lifts me high to lathe my breasts through the silk of my shirt, until I use my hands to pull it down, exposing my body to his gaze and the light of the full moon overhead. Slowly, oh so slowly, he lowers me onto his manhood, sliding into my body causing me to gasp in pleasure. I actually whimper as he pulls me back up, as if to pull out, then I buck against him, and he fills me once again. Over and over, do we tease each other, our kisses deepening as we seek to silence each other's sounds of pleasure. The pace quickens as sweat starts to pour, making it harder to maintain our holds on one another, and with a final shudder and a moan captured in honeyed mouths, we reach our completion at the same time._

_How we manage to sink to the ground without losing our intimate contact, I never know, but our kisses arouse each other, and once again we're riding the magic created between us. At some point, we must have made it to my wagon, for I'm in my bed when the first calls of the birds greet the morning sun. I reach out blindly to seek my lover, only to find my bed empty. Rushing to dress, I crawl out of the wagon, to see the young Laird, on top of his great war horse, readying to ride to Bannockburn. At his side, holding a chalice, is a young woman, her long blonde hair unbound as befitting a married woman, her body heavy with child. I pull my shawl around my body, fending off the chill of the morning air, happy I was able to ease the young Laird's needs when his wife could not._

* * *

Opening my eyes, I find myself looking into eyes so blue, with a strong jaw that seems so familiar to me that I think I've not yet returned from my trip to the past. But while the eyes are the same, the rest of the man's features do not match Laird MacAlasdair's. 

"It's okay. You'll be all right. I'm sorry I hit you so hard, must have knocked your head on something when you landed. Now, stay still." No, he looks a little like my Highland Laird, but the voice is not the same. The cuffs I wore are no longer around my wrists and I move to sit up. "Whoa, wait a minute, wait until the paramedics get here." He's gentle as he pushes me back to lie on the ground, but I struggle to rise.

"I'm fine. Let me up." I sense his reluctance and go for the soft spot, "Please?" 

He pulls me to my feet and yells over my head. "Okay. Johnson!" I turn to see a uniformed officer jogging over to us. "Johnson, take her down to Central and place her in our interview room. Connor or I will be there as soon as we can." The officer nods as he takes my arm to guide me away from the tall, devilishly good-looking man.

"Can do, Detective Ellison. Come on, Miss."

"Am I under arrest?" I ask of the woman and Detective Ellison over my shoulder as I'm led away. It's the Australian who answers.

"Depends on what we find out, sheila, and my mood when I get back to the station." With a flounce of her hair, the tall woman turns her back on my escort and me. She and the detective start retracing my steps, my backpack now hanging from the Australian's shoulder. 

I watch as the woman limps away. Damn, never should have kicked her like that. Last thing I need right now is charges of assaulting an officer. I sigh as the uniformed officer leads me to a marked police unit, places me in the back seat and soon we're off. The Australian didn't find my earphone or my radio, and the other officers didn't think to pat me down. I strain to listen for any sign Jan-Michel LaFollet is okay. But the radio stays silent.

* * *

_**Ancient Greece, Delphi approx 750 BC** _

_After her extraordinary outburst, Lia kept close to Diandra's side. The Dorian longed to pull her aside for a few moments and question her more thoroughly about her fears, but there was no time. She was late for her morning session as it was. Entering the temple, she processed down the long center aisle of the room, attended by ten of the lower ranking priestesses. The waiting worshippers lowered their eyes in deference to Apollo's Chosen. All but one._

_He stood in the middle of the crowd, taller than average, dark-haired, with a hawk's sharp profile. His dark eyes followed her as she ascended to the sacred mists. Diandra opened up her other sight and glimpsed something huge and empty and black surrounding him. Was this what Lia had been afraid of? The Dorian glanced around for her, but her erstwhile servant had disappeared. Shaking her head, she took several deep breaths then stepped into the mists, ready to serve her people._

_The morning period of prophecy was nearing its end when he approached the front of the temple. Diandra watched through the curtain of mist, seeing him hand over a bag to the priest in charge of collecting payment. It must have been enough, as the strange man was waved forward to the foot of the altar. Diandra opened her sight again, searching for his truth._

_Death. Blood. Screams. Madness. The dark-haired man, in face paint and a mask, on the back of a horse, riding down a helpless peasant, running his blade through his body, then moving on to the next victim. The same man, with three others, sharing the spoils of war, including frightened, crying women --and men._

_Sickened, and enraged, the Oracle broke from her trance and stepped from the mists, the first time in the history of Delphi that had occurred. She descended toward him, her arm raised in accusation. "You are not one of the faithful!" She glanced at the shocked expressions on her fellow acolytes faces, then returned her steady gaze to him. "He is Death! Death on a horse, killer of scores of thousands! They call to me, they tell me of your evil, and they demand retribution!"_

_For a moment, the man stood stock-still, as if stunned by her words, then he seemed to realize the danger he was in as the temple guards advanced on him. In one swift motion, he drew his sword and plunged it through Diandra's midsection. She staggered back, not truly comprehending what had happened until she felt the warmth of her own blood spilling over her fingers._

_A scream of rage echoed through the temple as Lia leapt on the stranger, driving a blade between his ribs. They wrestled on the floor for long seconds, then she sprang to her feet the victor. Running to her savior's side, she dropped to her knees beside her. "Lady D! Lady D! No, no!"_

_Diandra opened her eyes with an effort, feeling the floor beginning to tremble under her back. "Run, Lia--"_

_"No, no, mistress, I won't leave you," the girl sobbed._

_The temple began to moan and shudder, and the earth roared. The crack from which the sacred mists rose widened and lengthened. People began to scream and run. Diandra looked up into the face of her charge, feeling Lia's tears falling on her skin. "This is…this is the last prophecy of the Oracle." With the noise of a thousand thunderbolts the earth swallowed the temple of Delphi._

* * *

She pushed hard against the weight that pinned her, struggled to free herself, fought to breathe. She was so hot, and there was no air. She was going to die, over and over and over and over--

"Dee! Dee! Wake up! You're having a nightmare."

She opened her eyes to find Blair leaning over her, his expression worried. "Lobo? What…" She couldn't move; something was holding her down. Dee began to twist and wriggle, half sobbing.

"Dee, angel, hold still. You're caught in the sheet." She forced herself to lie quietly, even though she felt like her heart was going to explode, it was racing so fast. Finally he tugged the recalcitrant cloth loose, and she tumbled off the sofa into his arms, shaking and crying. "Whoa, whoa, honey, it was just a dream." Blair held her close, stroking her hair, kissing her forehead. "It's okay, baby, it's okay. I'm not going to let anything hurt you."

Finally, Dee began to relax, the vivid memory of being buried under the temple fading. Letting out a long breath, she tilted her head back, looking into his eyes. "Thank you, Lobo."

He smiled at her, laughing softly. "For what? For loving you?"

She smiled back. "Yeah, for loving me, for being patient with me, for not freaking when I'm freaking."

"Oh, that, that's easy. I know all about bad dreams, and that, my love, was an 8 on the Sandburg Nightmare Scale. You wanna talk about it? They say if you talk about your nightmares, it helps you see they aren't real."

Shuddering, Dee tightened her grip on him. "Don't think that will work in my case. What I was dreaming was real; it did actually happen to me. I dreamt of my first death, at Delphi, when the earth opened up and the temple crashed to the ground."

"Umm," Blair murmured, pressing his lips against her hair. "I don't think I've heard that story."

She snuggled up closer to him, almost crawling into his lap. "Some other time, okay, when it doesn't feel so real."

"Sure, whenever you're ready. So, you want to go across the hall and get some sleep in a real bed?"

Yawning, Dee nodded in reply. He was just helping her off the floor when the phone rang. "Hello. Hey, Megan, what's going on? You and Jim catch the bad guys yet? You did? Oh, ouch, that sounds painful. No, no, we weren't busy, of course we can give you a lift home. Not a problem. You don't know when you'll be done? That's okay, we'll just head on down to the station and hang out. See you later."

He hung up the phone. "You hear that?"

Dee was already gathering up her clothes. "Yeah, Megan got kicked by some perp and needs a ride home."

"She didn't sound like it was too bad."

"Well, I'll be the judge of that when I see her. Come on, I'm curious to know who could get through her guard." Grabbing her coat, she headed out the door, Blair right behind her.

* * *

How long have I been here? Why hasn't anyone come in to talk with me since I was escorted to this interview room? Where the hell is Jan-Michel? Oh, gods! I hope he's all right. Ten paces, turn. Six paces, turn. Ten paces, turn. Six paces. Over and over my boot heels click out the rhythm as I count out the steps around the edge of this interview room, skirting the table and the chairs, refusing to settle.

Officer Johnson had brought me up to this unit, Major Crimes - whatever the hell that means. A uniformed, female officer frisked me, finding my only contact with Jan-Michel, taking that as well as my watch, leaving only my ring. She had also asked for my personal information; name, date of birth, place of residence - which I gave her with only a minor lie. I no longer remember when I was born, so I gave her the date I had chosen for this 'life.' March 22, 1965. The officer had looked at me strangely at that, probably because I don't look like I should be thirty-four. 

Damn, how long have I been pacing? The door behind me, the only one leading into the room, opens, and I turn in the middle of my pacing to see the auburn haired Australian walk, or rather limp, into the room. She's carrying my tool kit, the small black backpack, and a thin manila file folder, both of which she sets on the table while gesturing for me to take a seat.

"Sorry to have kept you waiting, miss--?" I slide into the chair facing the mirror, knowing there has to be at least one person behind the two-way glass, and grin amusedly at the woman.

"Eolia. Lee Eolia."

She's opened the file, looking over the information as she stands, trying to keep much of her weight off the leg I had kicked earlier. "Unusual name. I see you're from Rochester, New York?" Her pain-glazed eyes bore into mine, I don't answer, only nod my head. "You're also listed as the owner and current president of WindHawk Securities. What is it your company does?"

I know the game she's playing. I've participated in it long enough, both as a suspect and as an interviewer. She's trying to unbalance me, to throw me off guard. Fine. I can play along with her. "If you have that much from my background check, then you know what it is WindHawk does, detective--?"

"Inspector. Connor. New South Wales. According to the information we pulled up on your company, you're into counter-espionage?"

Ah, she doesn't like to be called 'detective,' I'll have to remember that. "A little out of your jurisdiction, aren't you, Inspector?" I barely choke back a chuckle when she nails me with a hard as brass glare. "WindHawk Securities is a counter-espionage concern, yes. What else would you like to know?"

"Business been a little slow recently? Need to find a way to fill the company coffers? Is that why you broke into QuestScape?" She's good. And against someone else, someone who hasn't been playing the game as long as I have, her tactics might actually work.

"Business is good, the accountants tell me we have over 4.8 million in the bank and I didn't break into QuestScape. I walked in."

"Under a false name. LeAnne Crowley. Or is your name really Lee Sadih?" 

Low blow, Inspector. "It was Lee Sadih. I changed back to my maiden name two months ago. Surely the information you pulled up on me shows that?"

She closes the file, hands clasped in front of her, trying to convey her sympathies for my loss. Bitch, you have no idea. "Yes, the information shows that. It also led me to an unsolved, rather bizarre, murder in Seattle." I shiver; I know what she speaks of, intimately. Before I can respond, she's launched in another direction. "So, why did you break into QuestScape?"

"I didn't break in. I was performing a security check."

She lifts up my backpack, opens the main compartment and carelessly dumps the contents. I didn't realize I was holding my breath until I noticed that someone, probably whomever put everything into the evidence bags, had removed the blasting caps. "And I suppose this is your cosmetic kit?"

I don't answer her, letting the evidence speak for itself.

"This is some serious hardware for a simple security check, Ms. Eolia. Especially this," She holds up the card reader scrambler I had used to gain access to the development lab. "Looks more like what I think a thief would use."

"It is. That's why I use that device, and the others you just dumped, when I do a security systems check. If I can get past the security measures, anyone can."

"So why didn't the head of QuestScape's security know about this 'security check' of yours?"

"It was a private contract between QuestScape and WindHawk. Only a few people knew about the contract."

Before she can launch into another series of questions, there is a polite knocking on the door. I wince in sympathy as she limps over, opens the door a crack and is handed something. It's a piece of paper, which she reads, then stuffs in her pocket, shuts the door and turns back to me. "What did you do with the hard drive, Lee?"

Finally! "If you know about the hard drive, then I assume you've been in contact with Mr. Norman Ventriss?"

"Where is the information you stole?"

"I didn't steal it, Inspector, it was already missing from the lab when I got there."

"I suppose you're going to try to tell me Mr. Ventriss set you up? That there never was any hard drive?"

"No. There was someone else in the lab--"

"Your partner in crime?"

"No! A thief. One who tried to kill me."

"Ah." She smiles. I don't like that look. "So which one of you was the one to blow out the window in the lab? You? Sloppy work, setting off the alarms like that."

Blow out the-- There is no way she could know, is there? Unless-- Wait a minute. Sharee Milton was on the floor above, could she have heard? "He did. He had a damn shotgun he aimed at my head. He probably took the hard drive."

"And now we're back to this other thief. You know, I just don't believe you, Lee." There's another knock, but this time it comes from the mirror behind her. "Excuse me."

She limps out of the room. I follow on her heels, letting the door close between us as I flip off the overhead lights. Looking into the mirror, I see three shapes leave the observation room. One is much taller than the others, probably the commander of the division. The other two are of similar height, most likely her partner and maybe someone who was able to confirm my alibi. Either that or maybe a Prosecuting Attorney who's going to tell them they have nothing to really hold me on. 

I flip the lights back on, satisfied now my suspicions have been confirmed, that I had been watched while the Inspector conducted her interview. I walk back over to the chair I had abandoned, sinking back into it as my mind starts to wander again. 

Where the hell is LaFollet?

* * *

"Are you sure they don't have anything besides this dreck?" Dee asked, swallowing a sip of what passed for coffee at the police station. 

Blair followed her out of the break room. "Unfortunately, no. Except…Simon has a stash of flavored stuff in his office."

"Ugh, that might just be worse than this. Flavored coffee, ick." She shuddered for emphasis. "Look, I'm going to dump this out and grab a soda. You want one?"

"Yeah, sure, root beer if there's any in the machine." She turned back toward the break room then froze in her tracks. "Dee?"

She waved her hand at him to be quiet, then turned toward the elevators, her face apprehensive. "Immortal," she finally said, just as the elevator doors slid open, and a man staggered out, one hand held to his head, his expression pained and confused. "Correction, make that new Immortal."

Blair looked from her to the other man, wide-eyed. The man was probably in his late thirties, slightly taller than Dee, and his blond hair was streaked and matted with blood. His coat was bloodstained as well. "Shit, Dee, what do we do?"

Dee's vision focused on the wrist of the hand he had pressed against his temple. "He's a Watcher!"

"What!"

"We have to get him out of here, somewhere we can talk to him." 

Blair snapped his fingers. "One of the interrogation rooms, third door on the left around the corner. I'll bring him. Go!" Dee ducked around the corner and Blair approached the unfamiliar Watcher. "Hi, can I help you?" He held out his left hand as if to support the other man, making sure he noticed the blue symbol on the inside of his wrist. "Pardon my saying so, but you look like crap. The cops see you like this, you're going to be answering a lot of unpleasant questions." 

He waved his police ID under the man's nose, while guiding him down the hall and into the interrogation room. Dee wasn't there, and Blair figured she was going to let him see how much he could get out of the Watcher before she showed up. "I can help you, but you're going to have to tell me what happened to you."

He pushed the still confused man into a chair then went to close the door. "Why don't you start with who you are? I'm Blair Sandburg."

His name seemed to ring a bell with the stranger. "You're Pallas' Watcher."

"Not really. I'm a researcher for Joe Dawson. I didn't catch your name." Blair folded his arms across his chest and leaned his back against the door.

"I'm Jan-Michel LaFollet, Lee Eolia's Watcher. I lost her tonight, and heard she was brought here."

Eolia? Great that was just what he wanted to hear. So much for being rid of her after the meeting at the church that afternoon. "So you came to pick up her trail?" The man nodded. "Is she the one who hurt you?"

"Hurt me?" He reached a hand up to his temple again, the sticky feel of the blood there seeming to remind him what had happened. "No, I don't think so. I was in the car, waiting for her, and the alarms went off. She jumped out the window, was trying to escape when--" He closed his eyes, trying to remember. "Someone pulled open the car door and--shot me--oh my god! They shot me!" LaFollet jumped to his feet, his eyes wide.

"Jan-Michel, it's okay, you're fine." 

Both of the man's hands went to his head and he doubled over. "Oh, god, what is that? It's inside my head and outside of me at the same time." Moving away from the door, Blair settled the Watcher in a chair again as Diandra entered.

"That, Mr. LaFollet, is what we call a 'buzz'. You're an Immortal now." He just moaned and shook his head, his eyes closed. Dee crossed the room toward him. Catching his chin in her hand, she raised his head. "Open your eyes and look at me. It's the only way to make the buzz fade."

Slowly he did as he was told, his hands dropping to his lap. "You're right, it's gone now. Who the hell are you?"

Taking a step back, Dee leaned against the edge of the table. "I'm Diandra of Delphi, Champion of Thymescria, but nowadays, I go by Dee Pallas." 

LaFollet seemed to shrink into himself, and his eyes darted around the room nervously. She could hear his heart pounding. "Goddess! What do you think I'm going to do to you, Watcher? Take your head in a police station?"

Swallowing nervously, the new Immortal shrugged. "I don't know. I--you know about the Watchers?"

She nodded. "Yes, I know about the Watchers. And Joe Dawson is a good friend of mine. What lies has he been filling your head with?" She softened her question with a smile.

"I--He--I called him when I found out Lee met with you today. He said you were dangerous. That Lee was in trouble if she went after you."

She thought that over for a moment. "Yes, I suppose if you were being literal-minded, that's probably pretty close to the truth. And I think Joe embellishes my reputation to put people off. I think it would hurt him deeply if I were to lose my head. But I have no quarrel with Lee, or with you." She sighed. "In fact, I'm honor-bound to help you, seeing as you're a newborn." She looked at Blair. "So how should we handle this, Lobo?"

Blair was silent for a moment, then said, "You're here to help Lee, right? I mean, you said you were with her tonight." LaFollett nodded. "Then I think we should stick with that. I have to warn you, though, the two cops who arrested her know about Watchers, and Immortals, so watch what you say. And we'll need to let Lee know what's going on, so she doesn't give herself or you away. I can take care of that. Dee, you wanna go listen in, see what Megan and Jim are up to? I'll run him down to the locker room and get him cleaned up, then bring him back here and we'll take it from there."

"Sounds good to me. Go with Blair, Mr. LaFollett. I'll see what I can find out about Lee." Dee waited a few seconds until she heard the two men heading downstairs, then she exited the interrogation room and headed for Major Crimes to find the two arresting officers arguing.

"Damn it, Conner, give it a rest! You're not getting anywhere with her, and you can barely stand up!"

"I'm fine, Ellison! And I don't think you're going to get any further with her. I saw the look she was giving you at the crime scene. All she's going to have to do is bat her eyelashes at you and you'll be wrapped around her little finger!"

The detective scowled at her, then shrugged. "So? That might work to our advantage, if she thinks she can manipulate me."

"Augh!" Megan threw her hands up in frustration. "Fine! Go ahead! Have it your way!" Whirling to stalk away, her right leg gave out, and she would have fallen, had not Dee been there to catch her.

"Hey, Pajara, take it easy, okay?" She helped her companion to a chair then glanced up at Jim. "Go on, she'll be fine." Nodding, he left them alone in the bullpen.

"Ow, bugger! It hurts!" Megan complained as soon as he was gone, twisting in her seat, trying to take the weight off that side.

Dee knelt next to her, running her hand down her hip and over her thigh. Megan clawed at the arm of the chair and moaned. The older woman looked up at her. "You really should have gone to the hospital, Pajara. It's a fairly deep bruise, and there's a lot of fluid built up around it. Do you get a shooting pain in your hip and down your thigh?"

Megan nodded. "Bloody leg feels like it's going to give out if I move wrong on it. Damn it, she kicked me hard, but not that hard." She cried out as Dee dug her thumb into her lower back. 

"You must have been at just the wrong angle when she connected. Your sciatic nerve is being pinched when you move. I can fix this, but it's going to hurt worse than it does now. You want to do this here, or someplace a little more private?"

"More private. The women's loo?" Nodding, Dee put her friend's arm over her shoulder, and lifted her to her feet. With Megan leaning heavily on her, they headed out of the bullpen.

* * *

Damn it all! 

Crap, could this night get any worse? 

I stand up rapidly, the chair I was sitting in sliding across the floor to hit the wall behind me, and I start to pace. Of all the times to be caught unarmed. The tingling sensation runs up my spine to resonate in my head, the sign of an Immortal in the vicinity. Just how many of us are in this Goddess forsaken city?

Keeping one eye on the door, I start to check out the chairs and table, looking for a way to dismantle them, or simply use them in a pinch. If I'm to be confronted in a damn police station, I'll not make it easy on the other Immortal. 

Oh, shit! Another one? Does Cascade, Washington breed Immortals like rabbits? I still my movements, trying to get a fix on this second Immortal; the buzz off this one is rather weak. A newborn? Maybe this city does draw Immortals. I drop to my knees, looking under the table.

I hear the voices, apparently near by, raised in anger and rise to my feet from where I was looking at the supports to the table. No help there, this furniture is just too well built. I sit back on my haunches and a voice, raised in anger, or is it concern, catches my attention. 

"Damn it, Connor, give it a rest!"

Rising to my feet I realize the voice is familiar. Ah, yes, the nice looking detective from the scene outside of QuestScape. I don't catch everything that is said, but I try to. I step closer to the door and barely hear the heated reply.

"I'm fine, Ellison!"

It's my Aussie Inspector friend. She doesn't sound very happy. I don't blame her. Not only did I not give her what she wanted when she was talking with me, I also gave her one hell of a sore leg. 

"Augh! Fine! Go ahead! Have it your way!" Well, that sounds like someone who lost an argument. I step back away from the door, just as Detective Ellison opens it and gives me the strangest look, like he knew what I was up to.

"Stretching your legs, Ms. Eolia?"

"You could say that, Detective."

"Please, have a seat. I'd like to conclude our talk before the sun rises."

Nice touch: polite concern tinged with just a bit of sarcasm. Either he's going to go for the concerned cop routine or the bad cop. Damn, with his looks, the bad cop could break a lesser person. It's his eyes. Ice blue, frozen, deadly. I slowly take a seat, once again facing the window behind him, and watch as he moves with fluid grace into the chair across from me.

"Ms. Eolia, let me be perfectly blunt with you."

"Please." I lean my elbows on the table, bracing my chin in my hand, hoping I can control enough of my autonomic responses so he can't detect my nervousness. Not because I'm worried about his questions, but because I'm trapped in a room with no way out and an innocent. I still can't taste who the other immortal is in the area, and if it's the rogue--

"You're facing a pretty serious charge this morning."

"I didn't take anything from QuestScape." Oops, shouldn't have interrupted him. Nothing like seeing those eyes turn to hard, cold fire and ice.

"I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about your assault on Inspector Connor, your attempted escape from custody. And I'm well within my rights, as an investigating officer, to hold you in custody as a potential witness to a very serious crime."

"Excuse me?" He couldn't. He wouldn't. Would he? Damn, that little known law hasn't been used in years.

"I believe you heard me." He leans back in his chair, his arms folding across his chest. "But that is the least of your concerns right now."

"Look, I'm sorry I injured your partner, but I was concerned about a friend--" I snap my mouth closed over the words slipping from my lips and turn my gaze from his. 

"A friend?" He reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out the small radio which had been taken from me earlier. "The person who was on the other end of this?" He tosses the radio onto the table, where it slides to a halt halfway between us. 

My hands itch with the need to pick up the radio, to try to contact LaFollet, and I barely restrain myself from doing so. I've already slipped up, making that vague reference to my bodyguard and Watcher. I just pray the detective didn't notice. The silence drags time to a crawl between us.

"You may as well tell me, Ms. Eolia. I'll find out soon enough."

Maybe it wouldn't hurt to trust this mortal. Taking a deep breath, I decide to chance it. "Yes. My bodyguard. He was acting as my backup. Just before I ran into the Inspector I had heard him talking to someone, then I clearly heard two gunshots ring out."

"Go on." 

"The connection went dead. I lost contact." Returning my focus to the detective's blue orbs, I see a glimmer of belief.

"Just before I came upon you about to kick the hell out of my partner again, there was more gunfire. Do you know anything about that?"

I shake my head. "No."

"Hmm." Before he can say anything further, there's a single knock on the door and my attention is drawn to the young man who pokes his head in the room.

"Jim? Oh, sorry."

"What is it, Chief?"

Chief? Lobo? Sandburg. Damn, just how many titles does this young mortal hold? I watch as the dark haired student walks into the interview room. I'm surprised to find his face, his beautiful, unblemished face, bears no marks from the damage I did earlier. I did hit him, didn't I?

"There's someone out here I think you should talk to. Claims he can vouch for the lady here." The look he flashes me tells me he's trying to get the detective out of the room. Why?

"Fine." Ellison stands up and brushes past Sandburg.

I watch the Watcher carefully as he sidles over towards me, his hand outstretched in greeting. "Hi, Blair Sandburg. Has anyone thought to ask if you want something to drink, Ms. Eolia?" 

I shake his hand, and with the dexterity of a professional drop man the paper in his clutch transfers smoothly to mine. "No, they haven't. If it's okay, I'd love to have a cup of coffee."

Raking the hand he just shook mine with through his long, curly hair, the man nods. "I'll check into it for you. How do you like it?"

"Black will be fine, thank you." He leaves the room and under the table, I open the note and read the ancient Greek script. That tells me one of the Immortals in the building is Diandra.

**Lia,**

**Be wary. Ellison & Connor know of Immortals and Watchers. Your shadow is fine, but he's newly born and confused. I'll do what I can to help.**

**D.**

Oh dear Gods & Goddesses! Jan-Michel? An Immortal? How could I have not felt that? I tightly crumple the note from Diandra and under the guise of stifling a yawn, I raise my hand to my mouth and insert the note, chewing and swallowing it quickly. Sandburg took a risk, getting the note to me.

Not long after I've destroyed the evidence of the Watcher's collusion with me, he returns and hands over a disposable cup filled with a rich dark brew. "Here you go. Captain Banks said it was okay."

I sip the hot liquid, nearly scalding my tongue, and nod my gratitude. "Thanks."

His shrug is eloquent. "No problem. I'd better go and see if Megan is ready to go home now." And with a flash of earth tones, the young man disappears from the room. The small space seems strangely colder now he's no longer here. After looking at him closely, touching him when our hands met briefly while he handed me the cup, I'm starting to wonder if I've lost my touch. I used to be able to sense preemies, I was good at it, but now? I don't know how else to describe what I'm picking up from him. Though that doesn't explain the disappearance of his injuries.

I partake of the bitter brew; it's strong enough to reach up out of the cup to slap me. I allow my thoughts to wander back over the years. Jan-Michel LaFollet came to WindHawk Securities highly recommended, after the US Navy and a long stint at Camp David, where he helped protect the President of the United States and other dignitaries who visited the camp. The last three years, he'd been assigned to the small detail of guarding my back and Azir's, even though we both knew he was a Watcher. But never once, in all that time, did I suspect the Watcher was a pre-Immortal. Why?

Coffee finished, I start to tear apart the Styrofoam cup, piling the small pieces on the table before me. The buzzing in my head increases and the door to the interview room swings open. I'm on my feet before the person on the other side can take a step into the room.

Spying the broad shoulders, the crew-cut blond hair and the concerned hazel eyes, I relax my guard and rush over to him, enfolding him in a hard embrace.

"Jan-Michel! You're okay! I was so worried!" Seeing him wincing in pain, I grab his chin and force him to make eye contact with me. The lines around his eyes disappear once our gazes meet. "You are okay, right?" I lightly finger the Band-Aid gracing his temple.

He returns my hug, tucking my head under the chin I had held so firmly. "Yeah, I'm fine. Or I will be."

"What happened?" I lead him over to the table, sitting him in the chair while I lean against the table, my hand resting on his shoulder.

"I'll tell you later, Lee. Right now, we have to worry about getting you out of here. I talked with Ellison. He and the captain are willing to drop the charges against you if you're willing to cooperate with their investigation." His hand reaches up and grasps my thigh, "I can't believe you assaulted a cop. What were you thinking?"

"I heard the shots, lost contact with you and was scared something had happened to you." I grimace and my mouth twitches into a sad smile. "I really wasn't thinking, just reacting."

He chuckles. "Well, next time, THINK will you?"

"I'll try." Aware our little reunion was probably being monitored, I pull his head close to mine as if in another concerned hug, and whisper in his ear. "We need to get that hard drive back and find that damn thief."

He shakes his head, but doesn't break contact with me. "I can't leave you here alone."

"You can, and you will." I lean back, still clasping the back of my friend's head in one hand. "I think Ellison is serious about placing me in custody as a potential witness. I need you to be my eyes and ears outside of here." The dark look crossing my Watcher's face is almost murderous. "Please, Jan?"

I see he's having to fight against his instincts as a bodyguard, and his new status as an Immortal. I keep my expression pleading, hoping I can coerce him into leaving me here. 

"What if that other person comes here, looking for you? Who's going to watch your six?"

Navy men, got to love the terminology. "I'm in a precinct house. I think I'll be safe enough, don't you?" 

"Maybe." The tone is reluctant, but I can almost see the walls of resistance crumbling. "What about that little item you left behind?" His voice is so quiet I barely hear him.

"Do what you can, but it's not important." The door swings open and Ellison walks back into the room.

"Mr. LaFollet? There's a stenographer here to help me take your statement." Jan-Michel stands and slowly exits the room but Ellison doesn't follow him. Instead, he looks at me with a puzzled expression on his face. "Ms. Eolia, looks like you'll be here a while longer, do you need anything? More coffee, perhaps?" He pointedly looks at the small pile of Styrofoam on the tabletop.

"That would be nice. And maybe a trip to the bathroom?"

"Of course." He closes the door and once again I'm left alone with my thoughts. A few minutes later, the female officer who had searched me earlier returns and escorts me to the ladies room, where she watches me like a cat eyes a mouse before taking me back to that damnable interview room. Someone has left a large cup of coffee and a sandwich. I didn't realize how hungry I was, or how loud my stomach had been growling, but I'm thankful for someone's thoughtfulness as I devour the ham and cheese and take in the caffeinated beverage. 

Walking back to the interview room, I had caught a glimpse of a wall clock. It's nearly three-thirty in the morning, and from the slow pace this ordeal seems to be dragging along at, I wonder if I'll get out of here before the sun rises.

* * *

Ellison took a seat at his desk and looked the man in the chair across from him over carefully. The close cropped blond hair and rigid posture both cried "military," which he supposed was an appropriate background for someone in the counterespionage field. "So, Mr. LaFollet, can you tell me what happened tonight?"

The man glanced down at his hands, then around the almost empty bullpen. He swallowed somewhat nervously, and his fingers rubbed his temple. "There's not much to tell, Detective. I was Lee's backup. I waited in the car, in contact with her by radio, while she went through the security check. Everything was going fine, until she got to the lab. Then I heard someone else's voice over the mic, and what sounded like a shotgun blast. It was over five minutes before Lee responded. She told me someone else had attacked her, and she was trying to get out. A few seconds after that, someone yanked open the door of the car I was sitting in."

"Did you get a look at this person?"

LaFollet shook his head. "No, it all happened so fast. I heard two shots, and then everything went black. When I came to, I was in the passenger seat of the car, about two miles from QuestScape. I picked up the information about Lee being brought here on the scanner and drove directly here."

Jim raised one eyebrow curiously. "It's amazing you weren't seriously hurt or killed. Sure you're okay? I notice you seem to have a headache."

Again LaFollet seemed slightly nervous, his gaze wandering around the room, lighting for a moment on Blair, who was sitting with Diandra next to Megan's desk, talking with the inspector as she typed up her report. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Whoever it was didn't do any permanent damage, and your Mr. Sandburg was nice enough to help me get cleaned up downstairs. I was so worried about Lee that I didn't even know I'd been injured." He ran his fingers over the small bandage at his hairline. "I'm sorry I don't have anything more for you to go on, Detective. I want to get my hands on the person who tried to kill Lee as much as you do."

With a sigh, Jim dropped the pen he'd been fiddling with on his desk. "Thanks for all your help, Mr. LaFollet." He turned to the stenographer. "Can you get those typed up for his signature?" At the man's nod, Jim turned back to the blond bodyguard. "We may have some further questions once your client gets here, but for now I think we're done." 

Getting to his feet, the detective crossed the room to where his partner was sitting. "Okay, Chief, give. What are you and Dee doing here, and what's your involvement with this?"

Blair tilted his head back and blinked up at his friend owlishly. "Hey, if I had my way, I'd be snug in bed right now."

"Don't jump all over him, Jimbo. I asked Sandy and Dee to come down. I thought I would need a ride home, since my leg was giving me so much trouble. But it's just fine now." She shot Dee a meaningful look and a grin. 

Jim shook his head. He was about to make a flippant comment, when a middle-aged man stormed into Major Crimes. "Ellison! What in the hell is the meaning of this?" As he turned to face a pissed off Norman Ventriss, he heard his guide's heart rate shoot through the roof. Shit! He should have warned Blair.

"Thanks for coming down so quickly, Mr. Ventriss. I'm sure--"

Spying Blair in the chair behind the sentinel, the man took a step forward, and Blair rose to his feet awkwardly. "Professor Sandburg, I should have known you would be involved in this! Killing my son wasn't enough for you, was it?"

Blair raised both his hands in a gesture of compliance. "That wasn't my fault, man."

The man was almost foaming at the mouth. "Oh no? You're the reason he was in that fucking jail cell! You just couldn't leave well enough alone, could you?"

"He was a murderer, Mr. Ventriss. He belonged in jail."

"That was never proven, you son of a bitch. He never got his day in court. You're the murderer as far as I'm concerned! You're the one who killed my son!" Ventriss threw a hard right at Blair's face.

Both Sentinel and Champion moved in defense of the Guide. Diandra was quicker, her hand stopping Ventriss' fist in mid-air. "I wouldn't do that, if I were you."

His dark eyes flashed angrily at the tall Immortal. "Who in the hell are you?"

Her grip tightened painfully on his hand. "Let's just say I'm not a cop." Their gazes locked for a long moment, then Ventriss backed down with a small shudder at the look in her cold eyes.

The door to Captain Banks' office flew open. "Ellison, Connor! What in the hell is going on out here?" Spying Ventriss, the tall man lowered his voice and pasted a smile on his face. "Mr. Ventriss, glad you could come down to help us out. I think we'd all be more comfortable in my office. Detectives?" Megan and Jim followed Ventriss into the other room and Simon closed the door.

Diandra turned to Blair to find the color slowly returning to his face. "You okay, Lobo?" He shook his head slowly, and she pulled him into a tight hug. She could feel faint tremors rocking him. Pressing her cheek against his hair, she whispered, "You want to talk about it?" 

He nodded against her shoulder. "Yeah, give me a minute." Finally he let go of her and sat on the edge of Megan's desk.

She moved to stand between his legs, resting her hands on his shoulders. "Who was that?" she asked gently.

"Norman Ventriss." He leaned his cheek against her arm. "His son Brad was a student of mine at Rainier last spring. He was also a cheat, a rapist and a murderer, but because his father is head of QuestScape he thought he could get away with anything, including having me beaten, and then fired from the university."

"What!"

"Yeah, that's what I said. Only no one would believe me that this guy was bad news, until he turned up in some photos taken by the murdered man as part of his investigation of piracy at QuestScape. Just another of the big potholes in my relationship with Jim." He let out a long, resigned sigh.

Dee's fingers tunneled under his loose hair, massaging the back of his neck. Blair leaned his forehead on her shoulder. "Umm, thanks, that feels good." She pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "So, to make a long story short," he continued, his voice slightly muffled, "we caught Brad trying to escape the country with his girlfriend, and he went to jail without bail to await trial. Only he was killed in a jailhouse brawl in September and never made it in front of a jury."

"And his father, believing his son was innocent, blames you."

Blair lifted his head to meet her eyes. "That's the weird part, his dad knew he was guilty, that he was the one stealing from QuestScape, and that he had murdered the investigator Ventriss Sr. had looking into it. He still tried to help his son escape. And yeah, I guess he does still blame me for Brad's death. If I had just shut up and given him the damn C on the plagiarized paper instead of digging into it, he would still be alive."

She looked deep into his eyes, seeing regret and fear and sadness in their deep blue depths. "You did the right thing, Lobo, you know that. Whatever happened to him was a result of his own actions."

"I know, but…there's a man in there still grieving over his son." She pulled him into another embrace, feeling him bury his face in her neck. They remained in that position for a long time.


	3. Chapter 3

Closing the door to his office, Captain Simon Banks sighed before turning to face an irate Norman Ventriss and his two detectives. "Again, Mr. Ventriss, thank you for coming here so early in the morning--"

"Just get on with it, Captain." Ventriss snarled as he paced the small area in front of the man's desk. "I do not appreciate getting called in the middle of the night, telling me my offices have been broken into and I have to come up here to confirm some story the thief your people caught has concocted."

Megan spoke up before Ellison could, "Mr. Ventriss, that's just it. The suspect we have in custody claims you hired them to perform a security check. "

Ventriss didn't say anything, just scowled.

"Did you hire someone to do a security check?" Jim's voice was low as he ground out the question from behind clenched teeth.

"What the hell difference does that make, Ellison?"

"Answer my detective's question, Mr. Ventriss," Simon nearly shouted at the man.

The owner of QuestScape flushed a bright red before he spat out his answer. "Yes! I've been suspecting I've got a security problem, of the type WindHawk Securities is reportedly the best at locating and neutralizing." 

"There, that wasn't so hard, now was it?" Jim gestured for Megan to take a seat, perching himself on the edge of the table and grinning feral-like, as Ventriss dropped to the couch beside Connor. "Now, maybe we can get on with the reason we asked you down here?"

Simon waved off Ellison's remarks, not caring for the look in his senior investigator's eyes. "Mr. Ventriss, I know you've been pulled in here, without so much as a by-your-leave, but I would think you'd be anxious to have this whole mess cleared up."

"I am! I just don't want to get railroaded into something that might not look so hot on my already tarnished public record, thanks to this department."

Spotting the confused look on Connor's face, Simon made a mental note to get her a copy of the Ventriss case file to bring her up to speed on the department's past run-ins with the man and his son. "That could've been avoided, you know."

"Right." Ventriss shot a look of hatred past the Captain and out into the bullpen. "Like Professor Sandburg out there wasn't behind everything that happened to Brad."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jim shook his head. "No, he wasn't. Brad was behind everything that happened to him and Suzanne Nadine. Blair was just the one who caught on to what was happening." 

And made damn sure we caught on to what was going down as well. Should've heard the kid out before that bastard came after him with hired muscle and baseball bat, Simon thought.

"Oh? So I was just supposed to stand by and let my only child be railroaded?"

Simon sank into his office chair, dumbfounded by the man's attitude. "Look, Ventriss. You know your son had been stealing from your company and Complexium. That he had shot and killed the private investigator you had hired to look into the thefts. You know all that, and yet you sit there and still try to put the blame on someone else?"

"The only evidence your people were able to connect to Brad was regarding the murder. As for the rest?" Ventriss shrugged. "Let's just say I was willing to forgive and forget. I dropped the charges, remember?"

"I remember. I also seem to recall your team of lawyers cut a sweet little deal for you as well. And, after Brad died in jail, all the charges against you and Henry Nadine were dropped." Jim snorted disgustedly. "If I had my way, you would've been sitting in the same jail cell with your son. Instead, you walked out of here fourteen hours after your arrest for Aiding and Abetting."

"Jim--" Simon's voice held a tinge of warning.

Ventriss rose to his feet, glaring at Ellison. "The jail cell my son was killed in, Detective? The same cell you and others of this department sent him to? The one where he was supposed to be safe until his trial date? Is that your idea of justice!?"

"Better than what you got." Jim muttered under his breath. Simon heard him clearly, and, judging by their expressions, so did the others in the room.

"Ellison! Back off!" This time the Captain's voice rattled the windows of his office, as he reached out to stop Norman Ventriss from charging into his Detective, just as Connor made her move to restrain Ellison.

"Jim, this isn't the time or place for this," Megan whispered quietly from her position between the two men. The expression on her face made it clear she didn't really understand what was behind their anger.

The silence following the bellowing shout of Simon Banks reigned supreme in the tight confines of the office, until Ventriss broke off his eye contact with Ellison and calmly asked, "May I see the woman in your custody to make sure it is the same one I hired?"

"Of course. Connor, take care of that will you?"

"Yes, sir. Mr. Ventriss, if you'll come with me?" She led the businessman out of the Captain's office.

"There's a DVD-RAM drive missing. Did you find it on the thief when you-- " The door closed off the rest of the man's question to the woman escorting him out. 

Jim moved as if to follow them. "No, Ellison. Stay here." Simon glared as Jim turned back around. ”What the hell were you thinking?" 

"He pisses me off, Simon! Seven months later and he's still trying to lay everything Brad did at Sandburg's doorstep." Jim cocked his head slightly to one side, and Simon knew he was tracking Ventriss and Megan through the bullpen.

"It pisses me off as well, Jim. But you cannot hound a businessman of that stature without facing some pretty serious consequences. Look, I know you don't like the political game that was played there, Jim. But try to remember this: while that man is no longer the CEO of his own company, the company he built from the ground up, he is still the owner and President of QuestScape. And while I don't like it any better than you do, the charges against him were dropped by the PA and the Feds chose not to charge him either." Sighing, the captain sat back in his chair. "Jim, this time Ventriss is a potential victim, or rather QuestScape is, and that means the PD - and that means you - have to step lightly here."

"Oh bullshit, Simon! He's no more a victim than you or I--Oh fuck!" Jim bolted from the room, passing Megan who had stopped at her desk to pick up the files on Lee Eolia, rushing to catch up to Ventriss who had continued his way to the interview rooms without her. Evidently his time spent in the same rooms, back in May, was what led him straight to the one their suspect was in. He caught up to the man just as he pushed his way into the room where Eolia was being held.

* * *

Keeping track of the passage of time while shut off from the world isn't easy. In fact, I'm no longer sure just how early in the morning it is but the long day is starting to sap my reserves. The room is completely bare, except for the remains of the two cups of coffee and the sandwich I had earlier. The inactivity is really dragging me down. I can still feel the presence of Immortals in the area, which is not exactly conducive to relaxation, even if I know the buzzes I feel are most likely Diandra and Jan-Michel.

Leaning back in the chair, I stretch my arms above my head. The resulting release of tension in my upper back, accompanied with a quiet couple of pops as the tendons let go, feels wonderful. Patting my hands over my hair, I realize my chignon is a complete mess and remove the two pins holding up the mass. It takes a while, but I manage to finger comb the tangles out and soon the tresses are in a little better shape, even if it is a trifle too long to really do anything with without benefit of a brush or a comb. Slipping the pins into my pocket, I decide to do something to relieve the tedium of waiting.

Rising to my feet, I step over to a corner of the room and begin to stretch, working out kinks which have built up in my muscles. I don't have much space to work in and limit myself to a contained version of Tai Chi. The kata I've chosen usually takes me about thirty minutes to work through and I sit on the floor when I'm done.

I'm more awake now, but the recent events have me puzzled. How could I not have felt LaFollet's pre-Immortal state? And just what the hell is Sandburg? When we met last night outside the Church, I know I at least split his lip, but when he showed up here, there was no evidence of the injury. And then there was that sense of--power--I picked up from him when our hands touched. 

Sitting in a lotus position, I slip easily into a meditative state, one which allows me to think clearly yet still be aware of my surroundings. I'll work on the puzzle that is Blair Sandburg later; right now I need to find out why I didn't detect Jan-Michel's status.

When the former Naval Security Specialist came to work for WindHawk Securities five years ago, I didn't have much contact with him. Azir usually handled the training of our operatives while I handled the Public Relations and setting up our contracts. Either or both of us could make the trips to the various corporations to set up the final deals. It was those trips which required us to take along a few so-called bodyguards. Not so much to be bodyguards, but to let them see the lay of the business we were contracting with, to get their take on the situation. 

Rotating my head on my shoulders, trying to release more tension, I switch mental gears. Sandburg. Blair. Lobo. Chief. What is his story? When I ran into him, or rather, he ran into me, at Rainier the other day, he acted like a student. Told me he was when I confronted him in the alley behind the church! But then I see him here, at the station, wearing a laminated ID badge with the police crest on it. So what the hell is he? A student? A Watcher? Or something else?

And that tingle I felt when we inadvertently touched hands when he handed my coffee over to me, what in the heck was that? Why didn't I feel it before at the church or the university? I decide it's because when the contact occurred at the university I was already reacting to Diandra's buzz. At the church, I was hopped up on adrenaline and again focusing on Diandra more than Blair. Is he a 'preemie?' An Immortal not yet born? And even if he is, how in the hell did his split lip heal so quickly?

Sandburg must be a future Immortal. Maybe that is why Diandra has taken him under her wing; to train him, to initiate him into the Game, to prepare him for his Immortality. But if that is the case, why is she sleeping with him? What does she get out of that? What does he get out of it for that matter? Okay, besides the obvious--

The click of the door opening draws me back from my musings and I look up to see Norman Ventriss storm into the room with a harried Detective Ellison rushing in a few seconds later. I rise to my feet and face the two men.

"You shouldn't have barged in here!" Hmm, the Detective seems pissed. He should be, one normally does not let the victim of a crime come face to face with the perpetrator. Ellison takes a deep breath before asking, "Is this the woman you contracted with, Mr. Ventriss?" The words are civil enough, but I can hear the cold anger running like a deadly undertow beneath the surface.

"Yes, Detective. It is." Ventriss' words are clipped with barely contained anger himself. His eyes bore into mine. "Where is the drive, Ms. Eolia? My people can't find it anywhere and from what I gather, the illustrious crime scene technicians this lousy excuse for a PD hires haven't found it either."

I nearly scream in frustration, banging my hand against the wall. "I don't have it! I never even saw the damn thing!" I send my best "you really don't want to mess with me look" at the businessman. "Mr. Ventriss, I will tell you one thing I discovered last night."

"Oh? And what might that be?"

"Your security sucks. I've been in bathrooms that had better security measures." My voice is cold, but it's the truth. "As for your damn drive, if I had it don't you think I would've turned it over to the police the moment I was arrested?" He blanches, but I'm not done yet. "I don't have it, I never had it and for your information there was someone else in that lab. A masked intruder who tried to kill me. He's the one that more than likely has your damn hardware!" As the last words leave my mouth, I realize I've taken several steps towards the owner of QuestScape and Detective Ellison let me. Why?

"Ms. Eolia--Lee, I believe you." The words don't come from Ventriss, but the detective. The soft voice startles me, upsetting the anger I had building, deflating it completely.

Rubbing my hand, I look up into the pale blue eyes and curtly nod my thanks. The snort issuing forth from Mr. Ventriss draws my attention back to him. 

"Figures. You believe a perp, a probable thief, over me, Ellison. You're just about worthless, aren't you?" He spins on his heel and leaves the room. 

I glance over at Ellison only to see his jaw is clenched and he's following Ventriss' movements with a granite hard gaze. "Detective?"

Those eyes of steel turn on me. I step back a pace and the gaze softens. "Sorry about that. Old history." He gestures for me to take a seat and he leans on the table near me, his long legs stretching out. "Do you have any idea who might have taken the information from QuestScape? Or what it might have been?"

I shake my head. "No, I don't. I'm sorry. The contract called for a dummy prop, but Ventriss insisted it had to be real for his people to take the test seriously. I nearly walked out and nullified the contract when he made that suggestion."

He sighs as he gets back to his feet. "Okay, it was worth asking. Inspector Connor will be back in to talk to you in a little bit, to get your stuff back to you and to expedite your release."

"Thank you, Detective."

The most brilliant smile I've ever seen flashes at me. "Please, call me Jim."

I shiver when the detective--Jim--leaves the room. Not from cold, though the temperature is rather chilly, but from the promise I thought I detected behind those azure eyes. I mentally kick myself for even entertaining the idea anything could happen between this handsome mortal and myself. It's not fair to Azir, to me, or even Ellison. Oh, but the possibilities! I shudder once more, this time from excitement. 

The door opens once again and this time it's the Aussie who walks in, carrying my backpack and a handful of papers. My jaw drops as I realize she's no longer limping. What in the hell is going on around here? 

"Ms. Eolia, I've been persuaded not to press any charges against you for assault. Detective Ellison explained to me you were acting out of concern for your partner." The Inspector strides over to the table, placing papers and pack on the surface. "I have a few more questions to ask you before I can release you, hope you don't mind?"

Regaining my composure, I motion with my hand for her to continue, not trusting my voice just yet.

"Good. Now, tell me what you can about this thief you ran into at QuestScape." The woman's questions are pretty much a rehashing of the information I already gave and I absently give the answers as I ponder over the enigma which has presented itself to me in the form of an Australian Inspector. I try to work past the buzz I know are Diandra and Jan-Michel, to ignore the faint one I've tagged as Sandburg, and I feel it. I'll need to find some excuse to touch her to make sure, but, I swear, Megan Connor is like Sandburg, a potential Immortal.

"I hate to ask this of you, but I called Seattle PD and asked them to fax the file on your husband's death--" Her next words are lost to me as the pain of losing Azir comes crashing into my mind, my breath catching in my throat as the tears start to flow. Then she's beside me, rubbing my shoulders, offering condolences and begging forgiveness for having brought up the subject. Even through the pain, the heartache, I sense her potential. But it's more like Sandburg's than what I've come to expect off of a 'preemie.' Weird. I'm losing my mind; I have to be.

"There, there, lass. I'm sorry. Forget I said anything. Let's get your paperwork over and done with and then your friend can take you back to your hotel. Okay?" 

She hands me a clean tissue and I dry my tears, nodding meekly. "Thank you, Inspector. I don't know what came over me, I usually don't break down like that."

The melodic, quiet, laughter that spills forth from her is strangely reassuring. "Anyone who has been awake as long as you have been is allowed to lose it."

"What do you mean? What time is it?"

"Almost six o'clock." The idea I experienced lost time bothers me, but then again, I tend to lose myself in meditation. She slides the stack of papers over to me, along with a black ballpoint pen. "You need to sign all of those where I've placed the markers. Press hard, you have to make sure your signature goes all the way through the carbons."

I glance over each paper as I come to it. The first one is an inventory of my backpack, the second one is a statement signed by a Captain Joel Taggart, which states I can pick up the blasting caps from Evidence -- if I can show a federal permit for them. Then there is the transcript of the first interview I had with Inspector Connor and the subsequent ones with Ellison and, finally, the hand written one that she just took. Handing the pen and the papers back to her, I settle back in the chair to wait.

After checking to see that I did, indeed, get through all the carbons, Connor hands me the backpack. "I believe that Sandy put your watch in the front pocket." Sandy? Who in the hell is that? Oh, wait a minute, there were three initials at the bottom of the inventory sheet,'S,BJ' -- probably a secretary or a clerk.

Opening the indicated pocket, I find my watch and slip it over my wrist, glancing at the time. It's now after six in the morning. Slipping the pack over my left shoulder, I hold out my hand to the woman. "Inspector, I'm really sorry I injured you earlier."

"It's nothing. I've taken worse hits in practice." She cocks her head towards the door. "Let's get you out of here, shall we?"

I allow her to lead the way, and as we pass a door marked 'Ladies,' I realize I won't make it back to the Excelsior without making a pit stop first. "Inspector, may I?" I hook my thumb over my shoulder, indicating the door.

"Of course, I'll just go let Mr. LaFollet know where you've gone and have him meet you here by the elevators." With a swish of hair over cloth, she's gone, and I become aware of the tingle nestled in the base of my skull. Diandra. I slip through the door and face my one time savior.

"D--"

"Not here." She is speaking in the ancient tongue of Greece as she turns on the sink in front of her and begins to wash her hands. "I know you have questions, but we don't have time. Call me once you and Jan-Michel have rested." She dries her hands and, reaching into the back pocket of her jeans, hands me a business card. "My home and cell number are on the back." 

"Thank you." I answer in the same language. "Dorian, I've been thinking about what you said. For Jan's sake, I think I'll stick around a little longer."

"Good."

"I need to start training him. Is there someplace in this city I can take him without raising too many questions?"

"I'll see if I can find one for you."

"Thanks." I look up into her eyes and brace myself to ask, "Lady Dorian, I hate to ask this-- but I left one of my swords outside of QuestScape." Oh, shit. She's giving me a deadly glare. "I know, I know. But I didn't have a choice at the time, not with the cops swarming the place."

"Where?" 

"Large pine tree, east side of the building, about halfway up."

"I'll think about it." She gets a distant look in her eyes and her head tilts ever so slightly to one side. "I'd better go. Call me." Reaching back to the sink, she shuts off the tap and she's gone. I take care of business then walk back out to the hallway to find LaFollet waiting for me. 

"Let's go home, Jan-Michel."

* * *

Blair jerked awake as he felt the Wagoneer come to a stop and heard the engine being shut off. "Mmm, sorry I fell asleep, Dee. Are we home yet?" Opening his eyes, he peered out through the rain-spotted windshield. It was still dark out, but the sky was beginning to turn gray toward the east. Looked like another typical winter day in Cascade. A flash of lightning illuminated the area, and Blair could see they were in a parking lot, but definitely not at the loft. The crash of thunder that followed made him wince. 

"Sorry, we're not home yet. I had to make a stop first." Unbuckling her seatbelt, Dee opened the car door, and Blair did the same. 

"Where are we?"

"QuestScape," she replied over her shoulder as she slogged through the wet grass toward a slightly wooded area behind the building. "Lee asked me to retrieve her sword."

Blair followed, shivering in the wind and rain. "I wondered about that. I know she didn't have it on her when she was brought in. It wasn't in her stuff."

Reaching the trees, Dee began to gaze up into the branches. "There!" She stopped under a thick pine. "It's in this one."

"Where?"

"About fifteen feet up, embedded in a branch." 

Crossing to stand under the tree, Blair looked up and spotted the wink of silver. "Give me a leg up?"

"I can get it, Lobo. I know how you are about heights."

Blair shook his head. "No, no, I'm cool. Jim makes me climb trees all the time."

Sighing, Dee cupped her hands and Blair stepped his foot into them. "One, two, three." On three, she tossed him upwards, and he caught hold of the closest branch, swinging for a moment before using the momentum to pull himself up. 

Quickly climbing the rest of the way to the sword, he reached up to grab the hilt and gave it a tug. It didn't budge. "Shit."

"What?" Dee called up to him.

"It's stuck." Repositioning his hand, he pulled again. Nothing. "Damn it."

"Lobo, be careful. Last thing we need is for you to be falling out of a tree."

"Yeah, yeah. I know what I'm doing." He moved to another branch then reached for the sword again, this time wrapping both hands around the hilt. Blair wiggled the blade back and forth, feeling it loosen. "Almost got it!" he cried, and then the sword pulled free. Overbalanced, Blair lost his footing on his perch and tumbled to the ground, smacking a few branches along the way before landing with a whump on his back on the wet earth, knocking the wind out of him.

"Goddess! Blair! Don't move!" Dee dropped to her knees next to him, taking the sword from him and laying it aside, then running her hands over him as he tried to draw in a breath. Satisfied nothing was broken, she helped him sit up, running her fingers down his spine. He hissed as he felt the burn of her healing gift go through him, repairing damaged tissue even before it had begun to bruise. 

"Oh, fuck, that was stupid, wasn't it?"

She gave him a grin, then a kiss on the nose. "Yes, it was. Maybe next time you'll let me climb the tree?" She got to her feet.

"Most definitely." Grasping the hand she extended, he let her pull him to his feet. Picking up the sword, Blair noticed something wrapped around the blade. "Dee, what in the hell is this?"

Taking Lee's blade from him, she examined it. "Looks like some kind of wire, with weights on the ends. Reminds me of a bolo." She reached for one of the metal balls.

"Wait! We might be able to get prints off of that."

She looked at both balls closely then shook her head. "No prints." Unwinding the thin cable, she freed the sword. "Lia's going to be pissed. That wire left a couple nasty nicks in the edge."

Blair took the cable from her and looked it over. "What kind of weapon is this?"

Dee shrugged. "I don't know. We'll have to find a chance to ask Lia, or maybe there's something in the police report. But I'm not going to worry about it now. Come on, let's go home, jump in the shower, and then get some sleep." 

Nodding his agreement, Blair slid his arm around her waist and they headed back to the car.

* * *

Any hopes I'd be able to return to the Excelsior, talk privately with Jan-Michel, and go to bed are immediately squashed when my new student and I step off the elevator onto the fifteenth floor. There, standing guard on my room, are Sharee Milton, her husband Clarence, and John David. A gesture from LaFollet silences their questions and I key open the door to my suite. Once the door closes behind us, the questions fly. 

"What happened?"

"How did you get out?"

"Why were you arrested?"

"Do you have any idea how worried we were when we couldn't find LaFollet?"

"Who compromised the security check?"

I sigh as I shrug out of my coat, letting my backpack fall heavily to the floor, and sink into the couch. Answering the questions of my operatives takes the better part of an hour, and even then I'm only able to cut the Q&A session short by reminding everyone just how long I had been awake and that Jan-Michel needs his rest, just like I do.

It's nearly eight in the morning, Saturday, when I finally shoo nearly everyone from my suite; only LaFollet stays behind. I wave him off to his adjoining room, staving off his questions until we both get some sleep, then I start to undress. What I need is a shower, a nice, long, hot one. I sit on the edge of my bed, intending only to relax for a moment....

*Ka-BOOM!* 

I sit up so fast my head spins, my heart leaping into my chest and my throat tightening, closing off the scream threatening to spill forth. A blinding, nearly white, flash of light and another loud explosion sends me scrambling to my feet, my hands searching blindly for my weapons as yet a third shock wave rattles the room.

Sheepishly, I start to chuckle, belatedly realizing I'm not reliving the explosion at the World Trade Center. "It's just a damn thunderstorm, Eolia. Get a grip." I struggle to slow my racing heart as I talk to myself. "This isn't New York, it's not 1993, Azir's not trapped on the 28th floor, and you're not trapped in the elevator."

Taking in another deep breath, I realize I fell asleep, half dressed, on the bed without making it to the shower. Which, I now realize, I need more than ever as I feel the sweat of terror drying on my brow and body. Slipping out of my pants and underwear, I pad on bare feet to the bathroom where my tension is pounded away under massive amounts of hot water and sluiced down the drain with my heather scented soap. Wrapping the huge bath sheet around my body, I walk over to the closet and look at the few clothes hanging there.

"Damn, you need to go shopping, Eolia. You don't have enough here to get through Monday if you and Jan-Michel are going to hang around." Reaching into the closet, I pull out a pair of well-worn blue jeans, a light green, long sleeved Oxford shirt and my favorite dark, fatigue-colored sweater. It's just after three PM and, if I hurry, I can get the shopping done before the evening holiday shoppers hit the stores.

Once dressed, I tap lightly on the door connecting my suite to LaFollet's room and wait. He doesn't answer, so he's either still asleep or has stepped out on an errand. Grabbing up my thigh length brown leather jacket and my pocketbook, I head for the door and the elevators. 

I shake my head in amused disbelief when I see John David has stationed himself in the lobby of the Excelsior where he could see all the elevators. I walk over to him as he rises to his feet. "David. Let me guess, LaFollet put you on Lee-Watch?" I smile as I look up into his light brown eyes that are about a foot above my own.

"Yes, Ma'am. I mean, no ma'am, I just, uh, happened to come down here to, uh, grab a paper and got caught up in the coverage of the incident from last night." I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling or laughing. The kid's a bad liar and he knows it. He must, he's blushing from the neckline of his dark gray turtleneck clear to the hair-line of his dark brown hair. "Damn, that didn't come out right."

Okay, now I chuckle. "No, it didn't. But it was a good effort. Where are LaFollet and the others, do you know?"

"Sharee and Clarence slept until about eleven or so, then told me they were heading over to QuestScape to turn in their resignations. Mr. LaFollet woke me up a couple of hours ago, told me I had the watch and he'd be back here by seventeen hundred, but I don't know where he went." I nod and start walking towards the front doors. Once there, I hand the valet my parking receipt and the young woman leaves to retrieve my Lexus from wherever it was parked when Jan-Michel and I returned here this morning.

"Well then, David, it looks like you get to play tag-a-long while I go shopping in this nastiness." 

"Shopping, ma'am?" 

"You heard me. You and the Miltons will be returning to Rochester on Monday while LaFollet and I stay on here a little while." The valet returns with the black SUV and, after parking it under the awning, she holds open the driver's door for me. "Thank you." I shake her hand and slip her a ten-dollar bill as a tip.

John David is clearly uncomfortable as I drag him from mall to mall and a few shopping centers before I decide to brave the rain and go searching for the more upscale shops in out of the way places. Oh, the trip hasn't been wasted so far. I managed to find several new outfits and a nice, sturdy, long dagger to add to my collection. David must think I'm nuts for insisting on carrying the bag with that particular purchase in it into every shop I enter, setting off alarms in quite a few, until I show the security people the dagger, the sales receipt and let them hang onto it for me. It was annoying, but it let me get my real blade past them without revealing its presence.

For being so close to the Christmas holiday, there aren't many people out shopping in this weather. Can't say I blame them, not after hearing the weather forecast: rain, with possible thunderstorms, turning to sleet later this evening and snow after midnight. I'm making a large purchase on my platinum American Express card, when my early warning system sends a shock up my spine. Immortal! Handing the credit slip back to the clerk, I grab the bag with the warm-up suits for Jan-Michel and myself and turn around, trying to locate the cause of my unease. 

Damn, it could be any of the people I see milling about the casual wear section of the sporting goods shop. The young woman by the bowling shirts, the younger man across the way by the camping goods, the middle-aged man by the all-weather gear-- I can't pin it down. Seeing my bodyguard is yawning, I decide to have pity on him and to get away from the unidentified Immortal who is bothering me.

"Okay, I'm all done, David. Well, almost. Remember that nice little tea shop we passed on the way here? I want to stop in there before heading back to the hotel."

"Okay. It's only a few blocks from here and we have to walk that way to get back to the car." He insists on carrying my bag for me, and we only stop once on our way to the tea shop to pick up the dagger I had left with the store security people. As I have done all evening, I 'accidentally' carry the dagger through the metal detectors on my way out, cringe and apologize to the harried guards while David throws me an exasperated look. Poor kid, he is probably thinking after six such 'accidents' I should remember not to do that. If only he knew.

The rain has slowed to a heavy mist, but the lightning and thunder has picked up again, heralding more activity from the storm front that is slowly pushing into the area. David is leading the way, taking me through an alleyway that he swears is a short cut to the tea shop and the car, when the tingling buzz of an Immortal coincides with his grunt of pain as he falls to the ground.

"David!" I rush over to the fallen man, only to find blood pouring from a fatal wound to his heart. He's alive,though barely, and I reach into the bag he dropped to grab out a tee shirt to press against his chest.

"Surprise! We meet again." The chillingly familiar voice comes from the fire escape above me and I rise to my feet as I pull my sword. A young, light-haired man drops to the pavement in front of me. "Happy to see me?" 

Damn, it's the thief from QuestScape! I can't see his eyes behind the dark glasses he's wearing. Sunglasses after nightfall, for gods sake, what is the man thinking? "Not really." 

Oh, shit! 

I barely manage to dodge the bullet that is sent my way when he pulls a gun and not a sword from behind his back. This Immortal doesn't intend to fight fair, just like he didn't back in the lab. I start to run, blindly dodging more rounds pumping from the silencer equipped handgun, praying none of them hit me. I'm ducking behind a large trash bin when the report of a .45 caliber handgun splits the air along with a scream of rage. Peeking out around the bin, I see the rogue is down, apparently by David's hand, as I see my bodyguard's arm drop back to his side.

Knowing an Immortal can recover quickly, I decide to run again; I've got to lose him. He's nothing more than a headhunter, willing to do whatever it takes to get my head, up to and including unscrupulous methods of killing before beheading his intended victim. Sheathing my sword as I run, I manage to clear the alleyway, seeing the tea shop across the street. Starting toward it, I collide with someone who grabs me and swings me away from the mouth of the alley. I scream.

* * *

A loud rumble of thunder woke Megan. She rolled over, pulling the covers over her head. She'd just gone to bed. It couldn't be time to get up yet. She lay there for a few minutes, listening to the sound of the rain against the windowpane and the continuing roar of thunder.

The smell of brewing coffee tickled her nostrils. Who would be making coffee at her place? She couldn't remember bringing anyone home with her last night. She sat up with a groan, and, taking in her surroundings, realized she had crashed in Blair's room at Jim's loft. She rubbed her eyes. She'd been too tired to drive back to her place on the opposite side of Cascade, so she'd ridden home with Ellison, deciding to stay at his place rather than Dee's guest room to give the lovebirds some privacy. It was the start of the teachers' winter vacation, after all.

Yawning, she got to her feet and padded out to the kitchen after grabbing some clean clothes from the overnight bag she kept stashed at Dee's. She gave Jim a wave at his "Morning, Connor," and headed for the bathroom. Maybe a hot shower would wash the cobwebs from her mind. When she came back, dressed in track pants and a T-shirt, he handed her a cup of black coffee and pulled out a chair at the table for her. She took the offered seat, raising an eyebrow at him. "What's all this, Jim? Aren't Blair and Dee joining us?"

He walked back into the kitchen and returned with two plates heaped with bacon and scrambled eggs. "They've been up for a couple hours and are still going at it." He set a plate in front of her then sat at the end of the table.

Megan nearly spit her coffee over him. "They're what? Jim, I never realized you were such a voyeur."

The detective laughed. "I'm sorry. That's not what I meant. I meant they're still working out. They came over and grabbed some coffee earlier, said I was welcome to join them." He stuck a forkful of eggs in his mouth and shook his head. "Not on my day off, thanks. Besides, I get the crap kicked out of me enough on the job as it is. I'm beginning to think Sandburg's a closet masochist." 

She giggled. "Oh come on, Jimbo, I'm sure there's a thing or two Diandra could teach you. Like how to keep hold of your gun." His only response was a glare. "She's been teaching me sword work. In fact, we were supposed to work together this morning."

"Well, go on over when you're done. Don't feel you have to stick around on my account." He took a sip from his coffee and opened a folder lying next to his plate.

Chewing a bite of toast, she was silent for a few moments then she became curious about what Jim was studying so intently. "What's that?"

He glanced up at her, blinking. "Hmm? Oh, this? Just the info from last night. I can't help feeling there was more going on than we were told, only I'm not sure who was lying, Ms. Eolia, or Ventriss."

"Did you read the bit from the Seattle PD? That certainly set off some bells for me, but I haven't had a chance to question Dee yet."

Jim flipped through the pages until he got to the Seattle info. "You think this is connected to the murder of her husband?"

"Um, no. Actually I was wondering if we aren't dealing with something a little out of our jurisdiction, so to speak." She leaned back in her chair, watching to see if he caught her drift.

"Are you thinking her husband, this Azir el Sadih, was Immortal?" 

The woman shrugged. "I don't know. Beheading is not your usual murder method, though he was shot first. I was going to ask Dee if she knew him."

Jim skimmed the single page. "There's not really enough here to make a guess as to whether he was or not. We'd have to see the crime scene and autopsy reports to know for sure. And I'm not convinced there's a tie in to last night. This whole thing might be Ventriss trying to pull a fast one." Closing the folder, he said, "Say Ventriss is working on something top secret, something valuable, but it's not working out, and he has to answer to his stockholders. But then that something conveniently goes missing, and he can blame the loss on a thief and write it off, thereby never have to take responsibility for his screw-up."

"Sounds reasonable to me. Still, there are some things about last night that really bug me. According to the security guard, he locked off the elevators when the alarm went off, and headed up the stairs to investigate, meeting no one on the way. If Ms. Eolia didn't use the stairs to get out, how the hell did she get outside? Jump out the window? That's a four-story fall, Jim. Most people jumping out a four-story window just go 'splat,' they don't walk away and assault a police officer a few minutes later."

"Maybe she climbed down a tree. There are plenty in the area." He attacked his eggs again.

"What if she's Immortal? And her husband was too?" Megan leaned across the table eagerly.

Jim shrugged. "If she is, Diandra would know, and so would Sandburg. But even if they were, I don't see what bearing it would have on the case. Whoever the real thief was, if there even was one, their weapon of choice was a shotgun, not a sword. It's entirely possible there was nothing there to steal in the first place."

Megan went back to eating her breakfast, or rather brunch, judging by the time on the clock, but she still wasn't satisfied there was no Immortal activity involved. She was definitely going to ask Dee if she knew of Azir el Sadih.

* * *

Jim looked up from the sink full of dishwater as Blair entered the loft, Dee tagging along behind. Spying Megan with dishtowel in hand, she said, "Come on, Pajara. I've come to rescue you from this den of domesticity and take you away to a world where a woman is only as good as her skill with a blade."

The Aussie tossed the towel at Jim and headed for the door. "My savior! I thought you would never arrive!" Grinning, she followed the other woman out the door.

Blair wandered through the kitchen, opening the refrigerator and grabbing a bottle of water. Twisting the cap off, he downed about half the bottle in one long swallow, then grabbed the dishtowel from its landing place on Jim's shoulder and wiped his face off. "Man, am I going to hurt tomorrow. But I feel great now. Endorphin rush," he explained.

The sentinel looked his partner up and down, taking in the damp patches on his tank top, and the sheen of sweat covering his bare arms. When in the hell had Sandburg developed biceps? For that matter, when had the rest of him gotten so--buff was the only word Jim could come up with. He realized he rarely saw the grad student with anything less than three layers of shirts. The night before didn't count, as Jim was so embarrassed to have interrupted the lovers that he had been looking anywhere but at his naked guide. Not that Sandburg's physical condition really mattered, it was just surprising Jim had missed the change. He wondered what other things he might have missed. He shook himself as he realized Blair was speaking to him.

"So, Jim, have you and Megan been getting along?"

"Hmm, yeah, just fine. We were discussing last night's robbery." He frowned slightly as he heard his guide's heart rate jump. "Sorry, Chief, I know that scene with Ventriss upset you. I should have warned you we asked him to come in."

Blair shook his head, the wisps of hair that had escaped from his ponytail during his workout flying. "No, no, it's okay, man. It just startled me, that's all. I didn't ever expect to see him again, you know, and that wasn't really the reaction I was expecting, though I can understand it."

"Brad's death wasn't your fault."

Leaning against the counter, Blair gave his partner a grin. "I know. Dee told me the same thing last night. I'm cool."

Jim eyed him, looking for any sign his partner was uncomfortable with the situation. He found none. "You know, as long as you have that dish towel, you might put it to good use."

"Sure, man." Picking a plate out of the dish drainer, he began to dry it.

Jim approached his next question in a roundabout way. "Are you okay enough with the Ventriss angle to help me out with this case?"

"Of course I am. What, you think I'm going to lose my cool?"

Jim gave his friend a wide grin. "It's been known to happen." Blair bumped shoulders with him, jostling him away from the sink. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Go take a look at the case file; it's on the table."

Blair threw the towel at him, smacking Jim in the back of the head. He ignored the sentinel's grumbles about inconsiderate and ungrateful guides and companions, and got his glasses from his room before sitting down and opening the file. Twenty minutes later he looked over at Jim, who, having finished the dishes, had moved to the couch, and was now flipping through the TV channels with the sound off.

"Okay, I read it. Now what?"

Jim grunted, but didn't look up, then casually asked, "Did you read the report from Seattle?"

"Yeah, and I'm confused. What does her husband's murder got to do with anything?" 

"I'm not sure, but the murder method got my interest. What do you think?" He still hadn't turned around to look at Blair, but he heard his heart rate pick up once again.

"You're thinking this el Sadih guy was Immortal, aren't you?"

"It's a possibility. I thought maybe you might know if he was or not. Or you could find out."

Sighing, Blair rose and crossed the room to drop on the sofa next to Jim. "I can't do that, man. You know that."

Ellison clicked the TV off and turned slightly to face his guide. "Why not?"

Reaching up, Blair pulled the tie out of his hair then combed his fingers through the sweat-dampened strands. "Because I took an oath, Jim, an oath to observe, record, and protect the secret of Immortals' existence. You're not a Watcher. I am. I can't tell you anything, even if I knew anything. Which I don't, and I have no intention of trying to find anything out."

"Sandburg--" the sentinel growled.

"No. The answer is no. Look, Jim, how much trust would you have in me if I told every guy who asked about your senses? That's right, none. I'm not going to betray the trust the Watchers, and by extension, Immortals, have in me. Besides, there's nothing in that file to indicate Lee Eolia's husband's death had anything to do with the robbery, or should I say incident, last night. We really don't know if there was a robbery or not. We only have Ventriss' word anything was stolen. And there's enough crime in Cascade that you don't need to be doing the Seattle PD's work, too. Let them find his killer. " Blair got to his feet. "I'm going to take a shower."

"But, Chief--"Jim began.

"No. I'm not going to compromise my principles just to satisfy your morbid curiosity. This conversation is over; do not ask me again." 

The sentinel stared after his guide as he stalked into the bathroom. For a moment, he was irritated, almost angry, at Blair. Then he smiled. He'd always known Blair was a man of integrity; he shouldn't have expected him to betray his promise, even for Jim.

* * *

"And again!" Dee's voice echoed in the open space of the studio.

Megan brought the practice katana up and began the pattern again, steel ringing against steel as Diandra's blade parried each stroke. She had been looking forward to learning the art of the Japanese sword from the Immortal, but now she wasn't so sure. She had taken a couple of fencing courses at university in Sydney, and had gotten pretty good with a saber. But that had not really prepared her for the long, heavy, two-handed blade that was the katana. Her shoulders ached from the effort to simply hold the sword aloft, let alone move it through the complex pattern Dee had shown her. The heavy padding she was wearing wasn't helping any either. She understood the reason behind it, as well as the facemask. She wasn't immortal, and even a practice blade without an edge could do serious damage, but she was hot and tired, and sweat was running into her eyes. She brought the sword down and to the left in the last pass of the series, then bent over, breathing heavily, resting her hands on her knees.

Dee must have taken pity on her, because she said, "I think that's enough for today." 

Letting out a sigh of relief, Megan hung the blade on its cradle on the wall then sank to the floor, tugging the mask off. "Thank god! I'm all done in." Loosening the snaps on the padded jacket, she slid it off and laid it on the floor beside her. 

Dee put her own sword up then dropped to the bench behind her companion. "Scoot back a little," she told her.

"Hmm, okay." Megan did as she was told, and felt Dee's strong fingers begin to massage her aching muscles. "Oh, that's good, that's great."

"Thought you might like that. Still determined to learn to use the katana?" She dug in a little deeper, and the other woman grunted softly in response.

"Ugh, yeah, I wanna learn. Keeping you safe is part of my duties as a companion, isn't it? And you need to keep your sword skills sharp, so you need a sparring partner. Of course, I don't know if a novice partner is going to do you any good."

Dee's hands moved up to her friend's neck. "Sure it is. You're getting the hang of it, and teaching keeps me from getting sloppy. If I'm reminding you to use proper form, I'm reminding myself as well."

There was silence between them for a few moments then Megan broached the subject of Azir el Sadih. "Got a question for you, kind of related to the incident last night."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Have you ever heard the name Azir el Sadih?" Was it just her imagination, or did Dee's fingers tighten just a fraction on her shoulders? "He was our suspect's husband. He was killed a couple months ago in Seattle. Beheaded."

Dee gave a little laugh. "And you think he was immortal? I don't know every one of us, you know, but--Sadih, Sadih. It sounds kind of familiar. I met a Sadih once, quite a number of years ago. And yes, he was immortal."

"Do you know a Lee Eolia? She's our suspect, Sadih's widow."

The Amazon shook her head. "No, I don't think so. Of course we do change our identities quite often. But the Sadih I met wasn't married." At Megan's sigh, she said, "Sorry, I know that's not much help."

Megan sighed again then got to her feet. "No, it's not. But I guess it doesn't make much difference one way or another. I was just curious." She stretched her arms over her head. "I think I need a another shower if we're still going shopping."

Dee sniffed. "Yeah, shower would be good for both of us. Meet you in the hallway in thirty minutes?"

"Okay, I'll let the guys know we'll be ready to go shortly." Megan headed back across the corridor to Jim's loft, belatedly realizing Dee had deftly avoided answering the implied question of whether Eolia was immortal or not.

* * *

"Easy, easy. You're okay, I'm a cop." 

Oh, gods! I look up to see the face of the man who's holding me. "Ellison!"

"Lee?" He stares at me, then his focus changes back to the alley. "What the hell is going on? I heard a gunshot."

I begin to tremble, my answer coming out in small, shaky, gasps. "Someone tried to kill me. Shot at me from above. Oh, gods, I think David is dead."

"David?" He pushes me against the wall, under a storefront overhang. "Stay here. Help's on the way." He disappears down the alley.

I stand there for a few seconds, no more than a minute, before I'm following Ellison--Jim--not because I want to confront the other Immortal, but because I left a man down. Stepping back into the alley, I start to shiver; the rain is back and starting to mix with sleet. I find the detective kneeling next to young David, holding the soaked and bloody tee shirt against the wound. The bags which had been dropped are scattered all over the street.

"PALLAS!!" The yell ripped from the man's throat startles me. Why is he calling for Diandra? The sound of running feet from behind me draws my attention away from the detective. Turning, I see Diandra, the young Watcher, and the Australian Inspector entering the alley at a dead run.

Sandburg and Connor come to a halt beside me, while Diandra rushes past me to drop next to David and Ellison. "Goddess! I'm not sure I can help, Ellison--"

"You've got to try!" He stands up and looks back towards me. "Chief, call this in. I'm going to try to track the attacker. Looks like our victim may have winged him." Okay, it wasn't me he was looking at. 

"On it! Yeah, this is Blair Sandburg; I'm with Detective Ellison and Inspector Connor in the alley off of Government between Hickson and Balder. We need an ambulance and backup--" I tune out the rest of his conversation as the tingling in my spine increases. 

I look towards Diandra, the Dorian, and the feeling grows stronger. It feels like the times I've been close to where a Quickening was taking place, but she's very much alive. Gods ... Goddesses! What is she doing?

She's kneeling beside John, her hands placed directly over the hole in his chest. I can see the glow building around her hands and the crackle of Quickening teases my senses. Connor steps over to her side and places her hands on Diandra's shoulders, as if to provide an anchor or to hold my one time Savior steady. Sandburg has completed his call and touches me on the elbow.

"Help is on the way." His denim blue eyes are locked on the two women, his voice low as he calls out to them. 

Time seems suspended. I have no idea what Diandra is doing, or how she's doing it, but I get the impression she is all that stands between John and Hades. 

Pallas sinks back on her heels, her hands dropping to her lap, her voice weak as she shakes her head. "Pajara?"

"Right here, Dee." Connor squats down beside the other woman and reaches out to check for a pulse on David. She's stopped by Diandra.

"I couldn't save him, the damage was too extensive."

I'm left alone as Sandburg rushes over to his lover's side and helps her to her feet, pulling her into a hug. He is nearly dragged to the ground when the Oracle's legs give out from under her. "Whoa, Dee. I've got you." Connor actually helps lower both to the soaked pavement, Diandra ending up in Sandburg's lap. Then the inspector pulls her weapon free of a holster under her coat.

"I'm going to see if I can catch up with Jim." She turns to face me. "Stay here, Ms. Eolia." And in a flash of russet colors I'm alone with the Watcher, his Immortal and my dead bodyguard.

Stepping closer to the lovers, I hear them whispering to each other. "We have to tell her something, Lobo. And what about Jim? We're not supposed to know her, remember?"

"I know, angel, I know. This is becoming one hell of a mess."

"Lia?" Her soft voice, full of concern, draws me to her side and I crouch beside her.

"Lady D?"

"I'm sorry, I tried, but I couldn't save your friend."

I take the hand she stretches out towards me, clasping the warm flesh between my chilled hands. "What did you do? I saw the Quickening, felt it, but I don't understand." I look up at the Watcher and the next question falls from my lips before I can stop it. "And what are you doing hanging around with Sandburg, Ellison and Connor?"

"We're all friends, Eolia." It's Sandburg who answers that last question, but the expression on his face makes me think the term friends doesn't cover the half of it.

Diandra chuckles, almost too softly to hear, and she squeezes my hand to regain my attention. "I can tell you have a lot of questions running around in that head of yours, don't you?" I nod, once again not trusting my voice. "I'll answer them, later. As much as I like being in your lap, Lobo, company's coming and we need to move." 

I stand up and extend my arms for Diandra to grasp, then gently pull her to her feet, turning to help the Watcher only to find him already standing by her side. The sound of sirens shatters the silence of the soggy night, and soon the alleyway is overrun with medical and police personnel who have responded to the call.

In short order I find myself giving my statement, while seated in the back of the ambulance, to a nice looking, well dressed, dark-haired detective with a slight Afrikaan accent. The paramedics were nice enough to let us use the treatment bay, explaining it was a slow night and they had to wait for the coroner's van anyway. I'm just grateful to be out of the cold rain.

"That should just about cover it, Ms. Eolia. I'm sorry for your loss." He crouches over and jumps down out of the ambulance. I follow his example, only to hear him call out to someone as I make the small hop downward. "Jim! Megan! Any luck?"

"No." Oh, my. Ellison sounds pissed. Was that actually a growl?

"Never mind him, Rafe. We lost the trail about three blocks from here. Rain obliterated the tracks."

"Damn."

I step around the medic unit, hugging my rain soaked leather jacket closer to my body. The young detective, Rafe, hears the squishy squeak of my jacket and nods towards me while explaining to Connor and Ellison, "I took the witness's statement. She didn't get a good look at the assailant, other than to describe him as," he looks at his notes in the light cast off by the street lamps and the emergency vehicles, "Early to mid twenties, light brown or dark blond hair, about five foot eight to five foot ten inches tall. Slender. Last seen wearing sunglasses, black trenchcoat, dark pants and some kind of boots."

"Not enough for a composite sketch then." 

"I doubt it, Megan."

"Where are Sandburg and his lady friend?" Oh yeah, that qualifies as a growl.

"Over there, by the DB. Odd for Sandburg, but his girlfriend seemed a little out of it and refused to leave the body unattended."

"And the witness? Ms. Lee Eolia?"

Rafe looked surprised Ellison knew my name. Must not have paid attention in briefing, or he would've known I spent most of last night and early morning in their interview room.

"I'm right here, Detective Ellison." His expression is sad as he walks over to me.

"Sorry about your bodyguard, Lee." He wraps one arm over my shoulders and draws me away from the others, "This makes two of your people who have been attacked in the last two days. I'm starting to think there is more to you and your story than you've told me."

"I... I don't know what you mean."

"That's okay. You're still in shock." He's guided me towards where the Watcher and Diandra are waiting. The sheet covering John David is soaked with rain and blood and I flinch away from the sight.

"Everything okay here, Chief?"

"Yeah, Dee's just catching her breath. Kind of a shock to the system, losing someone whose life was entrusted to you."

"I know, Chief. I know. Lee?" I look up at him, my eyes still avoiding the body lying on the ground. "This is Dr. Diandra Pallas."

I nod to my old friend in greeting, never letting on I already know her.

Ellison gestures to the young man by Diandra's side. "And this is my partner, Blair Sandburg. I think you've met already?" I bob my head, agreeing with him. "If you don't mind, we, along with Inspector Connor, will see you get back to your hotel."

His partner? I thought that... Damn! More questions, just what I needed! My hands start to shake where they grip my jacket. "I appreciate your concern, Detective."

"Hey, I thought we had an agreement? Jim, remember?"

"Jim. Look, I'm fine. Really. I can make my way back to the Excelsior on my own, if my car hasn't been towed off." 

"Ms. Eolia, Jim's right. You've had a nasty shock this evening. Let us take you home and make sure you're okay." I see the way things work between Sandburg and Ellison; one goes for the no-nonsense approach and the other comes in behind that and hits you with a bucket full of sincere concern. Nodding my acquiescence, I agree.

"Good. Chief, you, Dee and Connor follow us. Lee, let's get your car and get out of here."

"What about my packages?" Okay, it's petty, but I don't want to lose that dagger. Damn, I can't get my hands to stop shaking.

"The forensic techs will have to check them over for possible evidence. If there's nothing there, I should be able to get them back to you by Monday." 

"Okay."

I lead the way to where John had parked the car earlier, only to see that somehow -- a joke by the Fates I'm sure -- the Jeep Wagoneer I know belongs to Diandra is parked right behind my Lexus. I move to climb into the driver's side, but Ellison stops me, holds his hand out for the keys, which I give him, then he escorts me around to the passenger side.

The drive back to the Excelsior is quiet and the shakes that started in my hands back at the alleyway, increase tenfold as they spread through my body. Not even the heat, blowing out of the vents like the dry wind of the Sahara in summer, can warm me. I'm barely conscious of arriving at the hotel, getting out of the car, or of leaning on Jim as we walk towards the elevators. 

"Lee? What floor?"

My teeth are chattering together, making it very difficult to speak. "Ff, ffif, ffifteenthtth."

"Fifteenth, got it." 

By the time we arrive on the floor, I've managed to dig my room key out of my back pocket, only to drop it from nerveless fingers. He bends over and scoops up the key, somehow without letting me fall to the floor as he's all that is holding me up at this point, and guides me to the room. The electronic code key opens the lock on the suite and he's leading me over towards the couch.

"Nnno. Bbbath. Cccollldd." 

"Right." He's familiar with the layout of the suite, that's obvious as he leads me towards the bedroom and then the bath, where he helps me to sit on the edge of the tub. "Stay put. I'll be right back." He's gone. I reach over and start the hot water running, carefully slipping out of my soggy jacket. I feel the electric current that warns me of an approaching Immortal, but I'm too weary to care. 

It's Diandra who appears in the doorway, Azir's white robe draped over her arm, and a worried expression on her face. "You're not looking so good. Let's get you warmed up." She places the robe on a hook then pokes her head back out the door. "Lobo! Call down to room service, have them send up hot tea and a bottle of their best brandy!"

"Gotcha!"

"Anything I can do to help, Dee?" 

"Yes, Pajara. We need to get her out of these wet clothes and warmed up, or she'll go hypothermic on us."

Under the careful hands of Diandra and Inspector Connor, I allow myself to sink into a lassitude and lose my battle to stay awake. I'm rudely awakened by the sting of hot water enveloping my body.

"Shush, Lee. It's okay. Trust me." 

"Dorian, I'm sorry, I couldn't let him get away with it. I know I desecrated the Temple..." 

"What is she saying? Dee? Did you understand any of that?"

"It's Greek. Do me a favor, Pajara. Go see if the tea and brandy have arrived and bring me some, will you?"

"Sure."

"Lia, Lia. Wake up! Damn, girl, don't you dare do this to me." She's talking to me, my Savior, whispering in the old tongue, begging me to hang on. But I can't. My heart is slowing, my breathing becoming labored, and I can feel this life floating away from me as I slip beneath the water, letting the darkness claim me.

With a gasp of pain, I awaken to find myself out of the tub, on the floor in Diandra's arms and wrapped in Azir's cotton robe. "Gods, that hurts!"

"Welcome back, Lia." She's pressing a warm mug into my hands. "Here, drink up. Feeling better now?" 

I sip the hot amber liquid, and start to cough as the fumes of the heated brandy slam into my sinuses and down into my lungs. The fit over, I carefully sip again, grateful for the warmth spreading through me. "What happened, Dee?" Only then do I realize her Watcher is in the large bathroom with us. Damn, did he see me die, help Diandra get me out of the water? Before the Oracle can answer my question, he's gone, softly closing the door behind him.

"Heart attack. The shock from being overly cold, then immersed into the hot water, killed you," she tells me in Greek, quirking a smile at me. "But at least you're back with us. Let's get up off the floor and get you dressed."

Reviving from death, for us Immortals, is kind of like having the batteries recharged. After the initial shock of waking up, we can usually function much better and are right back at peak condition. Handy little trick. After drying my hair, I opt not to change out of Azir's robe and stop at the trunk to find the matching belt then I follow her out to the living area, where Connor and the men are waiting. Ellison, his cell phone pressed to his ear, sees me first and rises to his feet, Sandburg right behind him.

Ending his call, Jim says, "Lee, you look better."

"Thanks, I think, Jim." I'm still holding the tea mug Dee had pressed on me earlier and, spying the tea service on the sideboard, wander over to refill it with just tea. The robe trails on the carpet behind me, threatening to trip me if I step wrong and snag the hem with my toes.

"I tried to contact LaFollet while Pallas was helping you, but I couldn't raise him at the number he gave me." 

I sigh and drop my chin to my chest. Ellison's question reminds me I haven't heard from my Watcher as well. "David told me he had seen Jan-Michel leave the hotel around one o'clock. He was supposed to have returned by five."

"Do you know where he might have gone?" 

I shake my head, watching out of the corner of my eye as Diandra takes a seat on the couch between Connor and Sandburg. What is her deal? She's his lover, but she called the inspector by a pet name that, if I recall correctly, means 'bird.' "No, I'm sorry, I don't. Let me call the front desk, see if he's left any messages."

The phone call was quick. LaFollet had indeed called and left a message around five-thirty. He was checking with a few people he knew over at the Department of Defense, and he'd be late, very late getting back to the hotel. I relay the message to Ellison and the others.

"Bloody bugger. He's investigating on his own, isn't he?"

"Looks that way. Inspector, you have to understand LaFollet - he's very loyal to the company and to me. I'm sure he doesn't mean to slight Cascade PD, but he's chasing down leads you might not have access to." I walk over to the love seat facing the couch and sink into the deep cushions, pulling my legs up under the long robe and tucking it under my knees. Jim, who had been pacing the floor like a pissed off cat, gingerly sits on the other end of the love seat.

"Why the DOD?" he asks.

I shrug then reach up to pull the robe back onto my shoulder. "Most of the companies we contract with are ones with major defense contracts. I don't know, for sure, if that is the case with QuestScape, but it is a possibility and I'm sure Jan is just covering all the bets before the trail grows cold."

Before any of my guests can raise another question, there is a sharp knock on the door and I rise to answer it, only to have Jim beat me there. He gestures for me to stand back, away from the direct line of sight when the door opens, and pulls his sidearm from the holster on the back of his belt. The small, high pitched, squeal of shock that echoes through the door when he yanks it open is all I need to hear.

"Sharee! Clarence! Ellison, back off! They're part of my team!"

Within seconds I'm enfolded in two sets of arms as the Miltons greet me. Then Clarence pulls back and looks at the others in the room. "Aww, damn it, Lee. Went and got into more trouble without inviting Sharee and me again, didn't you?"

"It's worse than that, C. David is dead."

"Damn." The big Native American looks like he's going to cry. It had been his idea to bring David into the company and to bring him on this trip, his first assignment outside the corporate office area, as part of his training. It takes me a while to get the whole story out, with only a few interruptions by Ellison and the others, but finally, I'm able to send the husband and wife off to their room to grieve in private. My throat is tight with unshed tears of my own, and I add a splash of hot tea to the mug I'd forgotten and try to wash the pain away.

"Well, that tears it. I'm definitely ready to call it a night." Inspector Connor gets to her feet, Diandra and Blair rising also.

"Megan's right. It's late and we really should be going."

"I'm going to stay." 

I nearly drop the mug in my hand as the words leave Ellison's mouth. "No, I'll be fine--"

"No argument, Lee. There have been two attempts on your life, your primary bodyguard is MIA, and your backups are not emotionally ready to handle anything tonight. So unless you want to spend the night in a safe house, I'm staying." Those ice blue eyes, flashing with determination, soften as he continues in a much milder voice. "At least until LaFollet gets back. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Jim? Can I speak with you out in the hall before I take Dee and Megan home?" Oh, Sandburg isn't happy about leaving his partner here alone with me. The four of them step out into the hall, Diandra flashing me a look I remember well from our time together at Delphi. I'm to behave myself. Like I'm in the mood to even contemplate doing anything after seeing my youngest bodyguard cut down.

* * *

Blair followed Dee and Megan into the hotel hallway, turning back to make sure Jim was behind them. Dee brushed her fingers against his, and he gave her hand a squeeze. "Megan and I'll meet you downstairs by the Jeep, okay? I don't think you need an audience."

"Yeah, that's fine." He watched them get on the elevator, then leaned against the wall as Jim exited the suite, closing the door behind him. How in the hell was he going to convey his sudden uneasiness over leaving Jim with Eolia without giving anyone's secrets away?

"What's up, Chief?"

"I think that's my question, Jim. What's up with you? Do you think this is a wise decision you're making here? You don't know anything about her, about who's after her. I can understand you wanting to protect her, that's your nature, man, but you have no idea what you're getting involved with."

Jim did a double take, looking surprised by the vehement reaction of his guide. "And you do?"

"I know you're planning on spending the night with Lee, without backup. Whoever's after her is pretty determined; they didn't have any qualms about shooting her bodyguard, they probably won't think twice about shooting you. I don't like it."

"Sandburg, calm down. We'll be just fine. I'm just going to stay until LaFollet gets here, then I'll head home. Nothing is going to happen."

Blair muttered something under his breath, knowing full well the sentinel would hear.. 

"What do you mean 'yeah, right'?"

Sighing, Blair met his friend's eyes. "Jim, you know you and redheads don't mix. Besides, Lee just lost her husband. She's probably pretty fragile right now. I--I just don't want you getting hurt." God, Jim must think he's lost his mind with that bullshit. But he couldn't tell Jim the truth, that she was an Immortal with a suicide wish. 

"Chief, I appreciate your concern, but I think I'm old enough to know what I'm doing. And I have no intentions of taking advantage of Ms. Eolia. I'm here to protect her, that's all. Now run along before Dee comes up here and hauls your butt home."

Blair closed his eyes for a moment, sighing. "Okay, Jim, but you'll call me to come get you, right?"

"Right." Jim re-entered the hotel room, and Blair walked toward the elevators, shaking his head. Maybe he could get Dee to talk to Eolia. He had the feeling Jim and Lee together were going to be bad news for everyone.

* * *

While Jim and Blair are having their conference, I realize I'm starved and the liquor I've consumed is starting to make me a little dizzy, so I place a call down to room service and ask that they send up a couple of porterhouse steaks, medium, with all the trimmings. I'm taking the chance that Jim hasn't eaten and he looks like a meat and potatoes kind of man to me. 

The poor worker that took my order explained they were just about to close down the kitchen, but I manage to sweet talk him into filling my order. Well, the promise of a 30% tip for the staff that helps me out may have aided my cause. I'd just hung up the phone when Jim walks back into the room. He still had my key on him. "Everything okay, Jim?"

"Yeah. Sandburg's going to make sure Diandra and Megan get home then he's going home himself. I'm to call him for a ride when LaFollet shows up."

"He's rather protective of you, isn't he?" For some reason, my words make him chuckle. 

"You could say that. Are you hungry?"

"Starved. You?"

"I could eat."

"Good. I took the liberty and called for a meal to be sent up for us both, I hope you don't mind."

"Nah. I'll eat anything right now, including witchety grubs." 

"Sorry, I don't think they have those in stock."

"Cute. I'll be right back." He disappears into the bedroom, heading for the bathroom, and I call room services back telling them to add a large pitcher of ice tea and a pot of hot tea to the order. Some gut instinct tells me it's going to be a long night. And I still have yet to ask Diandra if she was able to find some way to retrieve my backup sword from the tree outside of QuestScape. 

Within moments, Jim has returned to the living area as I'm pouring the last of the plain tea into my mug, a puzzled expression on his face. "What is it?"

Pointing with his thumb over his shoulder towards the bedroom, he says, "I noticed a connecting door back there; it wasn't locked."

"No, it wasn't. LaFollet has the room on the other side. I didn't want to miss his return so I left it open," I try to explain as I sit once again on the loveseat.

He takes a seat on the couch across the low table from me. "Is that a normal procedure for you both? Are the two of you close?" He snaps his mouth closed so fast I hear his teeth click and there's a light blush rising on his expressive face. "Sorry, I shouldn't have asked that."

"Jim, it's all right. I understand." I drain the last of the tea from the mug and carefully balance it on my knee. "Jan-Michel's became a little over protective of me in the last few months."

His voice is soft, his azure gaze full of concern as he gently interrupts me, "You mean, since your husband died?"

Biting my lower lip, averting my gaze from his, I nod. "Yes."

"I'm sure the incident from Friday night didn't lessen that protective streak, but why did he leave you here with only one bodyguard to watch your back?"

I sigh, wondering that myself. Getting in touch with people he knows from the Department of Defense makes sense to me, but he knew John David wasn't as fully trained as the Miltons, yet he left anyway. A part of me wonders if he was actually off somewhere, filing a report with the Watchers as well as tracking down leads. "I don't think he expected me to recover from this morning as fast as I did. He was gone when I woke up. He probably thought I'd stay here, in the hotel, until he got back."

The regrets over having not done what LaFollet obviously expected and the price the man he left in charge of my care paid well up in my heart, bringing tears to my eyes. I close them, trying to stifle the sobs, but it's a lost battle. The weight of the mug disappears from my knee, the cushion beside me dips downward and I find myself pulled into a reassuring embrace. I shift slightly and bury my head against a broad shoulder. 

No words are spoken; we just sit there. Me quietly bawling, Jim holding me, his strong right arm draped around my back, rubbing his hand up and down my right arm. It's comforting, being held like this. 

The knock on the door startles us both and Jim jumps to his feet, his hand already moving towards the gun holstered in the small of his back. At his hand signal, I quickly pad off towards the bedroom while he goes to answer the door. 

I glance around the bedroom and, seeing the hilt of Azir's sword peeking out from under the dark green comforter, I hurry over to pull it out then slide it under the left side of the huge bed. How Jim missed seeing that when he was in here before I'll never know. That done, I reach into the bedside table and pull out the holster and gun I placed there when I first arrived here. Silently shutting the drawer, I'm laying the weapon on the bed when Jim walks in.

"You have a gun?" He boldly strides over to me and holds out his hand. I hand over the item in question. I watch as he examines it, going over it like a pro, which he is. "A Lady Smith? I hope to hell you were going to tell me about this and you have a permit to carry it." After 'safeing' the gun by pulling it free of the holster and popping the cylinder free of the frame, he hands it back to me.

"I was going to tell you and, don't worry, I do have a permit for it." I carefully close the cylinder, slip the .38 back into its holster and place it on the bedside stand. 

"Show it to me later, dinner's arrived."

* * *

Blair felt Dee stir in the bed, rolling onto her side next to him, her hand coming to rest on his chest. "What's the matter, baby? Can't sleep?"

He shook his head with an irritated sigh. "Sorry I'm keeping you awake. I'm just worried about Jim. He hasn't called yet."

"Jim's a big boy, Lobo." Her fingertips began to trace soothingly over his skin. "Though I admit his being with Lia is not the most ideal situation, not unless she wants him to find out what she really is."

"I'm afraid he's going to end up getting hurt. If not by whoever's after Lee, then by Lee herself. I know Jim, I know he's attracted to her. What if she returns those feelings? What happens then? I don't know if he could deal with being in love with an Immortal. It would go against everything in his nature to stand back and not interfere in a challenge." He turned his head to peer into her eyes. The love and concern he saw there sent a shiver through him.

Her hand cupped his cheek, her thumb rubbing lightly over his lower lip. "Does being in love with me hurt you?"

"No, oh no, angel. You're about the best thing that ever happened to me. Being in love with you scares me sometimes, but I wouldn't give it up, not for anything."

She leaned forward, kissing him tenderly. "Then don't you think you owe Jim the opportunity to find this kind of happiness? He's the only one who can say whether or not he can deal with a relationship with one of us."

Blair rolled toward her, pulling her into his arms. "I know you're right, but still, I worry about him."

She snuggled closer, kissing his cheek. "I don't think anything's going to happen to him tonight. So why don't you close your eyes and try to get some rest. It's been a long couple of days."

He did as she asked, leaning his head against her shoulder. Blair was silent a few minutes then said, "Thanks."

"Hmm, what for?" She nuzzled his hair.

"For just being a part of my life, for loving me, for listening to me. It's just…nice to have someone I can talk to about Jim, who will understand."

"Well, you're welcome then."

He was still for a couple moments then said, "I never asked you, are you okay?"

"Okay how?"

"With what happened in the alley. You tried to save that guy and you couldn't."

Blair heard her sigh softly, and she rolled onto her back, staring up at the rain coming down on the skylight. "I think I'm okay with it. I knew when I saw him he didn't have much of a chance."

Turning toward her, he propped himself up on his elbow, running his hand lightly down her arm, entwining his fingers with hers, then raising her hand so he could kiss her fingertips. "You saved me from the same thing, from a gunshot to the heart."

She must have heard the unspoken question in his voice. "I was right there when it happened, Lobo, you didn't get a chance to bleed out. And your spirit was still there; you were fighting not to let go. He was already gone when I tried to help him. There really wasn't anything I could do. Even if I had healed him, I couldn't call his soul back."

He lay back down next to her, leaning his cheek against her shoulder. "Dee…"

"Enough talk, Lobo, it's late. Now go to sleep."

Blair lay there quietly for a few minutes then began to rub her stomach. "I'm not sleepy," he complained.

Laughing, Dee kissed him. "What did you have in mind, as if I don't know?" Blair whispered in her ear, his hand sliding under the waistband of her boxers. "Oh, oh, yeah. I think that's a very good idea…"


	4. Chapter 4

The meal was excellent, the steaks larger than I had expected, and when I found I couldn't finish mine, Jim Ellison surprised me by offering to do so. I sit back from the table, sipping at the hot tea that had come with my dinner, watching him. 

Most people go through life merely eating whatever is placed before them, not really taking the time to enjoy the tastes. Immortals, like myself, tend to get a little jaded about food after a few dozen decades, but even I have a few dishes that will send a frisson of pleasure through me. From the expression on the detective's face, he's not one to just inhale a good meal, but rather, he seems to be savoring every bite. 

Eros! Where are these thoughts coming from? I excuse myself from the table, moving back to the couch, as the idea I want Ellison to savor me, like he did the steaks, washes over me. 

"Lee, you okay?" 

I turn to see his eyes on me and I sink into the cushions. "I'm fine. Just had to get away from the table before I started nibbling." Seeing his eyebrow quirk up in a silent question, I respond, "Oh, don't worry, I'm more than stuffed. Finish your meal."

"Don't you mean your meal?"

The giggle that escapes me sounds vaguely like an errant school girl's. "What ever. I just enjoy watching you eat." Shit, that was not what I meant to say! Grabbing the newspaper from the table, the one I haven't had a chance to read yet, I hide my rising blush behind the rustling paper.

The silence nearly kills me with its intensity and after I'm sure I have my lust under control, I drain off my tea and, dropping the paper back to the table, I excuse myself once more.

In the bathroom, I look at my reflection in the mirror. The blush hasn't completely left my cheeks, my eyes are damn near glowing, and I stop to think about my reaction to the man I just left in the living area of my suite. When I had first seen Ellison, I had flashed back to my one encounter with Laird William MacAlasdair. Their features bear so many similarities. Damn. Could that be it? I'm attracted to Jim because I'm almost positive he's a descendant of that ancient Scotsman?

Cupid's Arrows! Even just thinking about both men in the same thought has my stomach turning into butterflies. I want this one, if only to see if the talents of the ancestor have been passed down to the ever so great grandson. Reaching for my toothbrush, I try to turn my thoughts away from the path they seem determined to wander down. 

Azir, my husband, has been gone from my life only three short months. Would he approve? Could he forgive me? Rinsing my mouth, I choke back a sob, knowing the answer. Yes. Azir el Sadih was a very unusual man; he had to be. We worked together as spies for so long, using whatever means were at our disposal to gather the intelligence we were sent after. Oftentimes, that meant me using my body to loosen tongues, or to compromise the target. But the past seventeen years hadn't been like that. I had been loyal, monogamous, to Azir. And I had enjoyed that. But Jim Ellison.....

Opening my toilette kit, I pull out a bottle of rare heather/lavender water and, after wetting a cloth down with the mixture, apply it to my heated face. The scent calms my mind even as the water bestows its cooling effects. Before I leave the small room, I run damp hands through my hair, spreading more of the scent around me. I need to remain calm, in control of myself.

I step back out to the bedroom, pad over to the door leading to LaFollet's room and, against Jim's better judgment I'm sure, push it open a crack. I know that I'll know when Jan-Michel returns, but I need Jim to hear it too, or I'll give my secret away, and my Watcher's as well. 

Returning to the living area, I see Jim has pushed the portable table, minus the teapot and pitcher, out of the room and has settled on the couch. I hope the hotel's staff removes the table from the hall before too long, or Jan-Michel may just figure out I have a guest when he returns. I'm really starting to worry. He's not called and it's nearly midnight. What if he runs into the Immortal who gunned down John David? Who's twice tried to do the same to me?

Recalling the loveseat isn't nearly as comfortable as the couch, I throw caution to the winds and sit back in the spot I had left. Which, conveniently, places me close to the man I've decided I want, if only for a short time.

"You seem a little preoccupied, Lee." He's refilled my tea and hands me the mug after I'm settled, my legs curled up underneath me.

"Sorry. I'm just not used to being watched and I keep wondering where Jan-Michel is."

His hand is warm on my shoulder. The mild squeeze, meant to be reassuring, only sends a flush of pleasure through my veins. "You want to try calling him?"

I sigh. "I'd say yes, but I don't think he took his cell phone with him." 

"Try. It'll make you feel better." 

Twisting in the seat, I reach to the phone and dial the number I know belongs to the phone Jan carries for his role as my employee. There's no answer. I long to try his other phone, his Watcher issued one, but I don't have the number. Reluctantly, I hang up the handset. "Nothing. I don't want to distract him from whatever it is he's doing, but I need to be the one to tell him about John David."

The hand that reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear is gentle. "Look, I'll tell him for you, if you want."

I lean my head against the hand lingering on my hair. "That's sweet of you, Jim. Thank you."

Silence fills the space between us, as his hand keeps stroking my hair, causing the scent of the heather and lavender to waft into the air. I let my eyes close, luxuriating in the touch which has slowly worked its way under my heavy, long hair to lightly caress the nape of my neck. I shiver, not wanting him to stop, but to continue touching me. 

His hand stops, and I open my eyes to look at him. "Jim?"

He moves in slowly, stopping only when his face is scant inches from my own. "What are you doing to me, Lee Eolia?"

"What do you mean?" I lick my lips; the color I applied earlier isn't doing its job for they've gone dry.

"I've only felt this way a few times in my life..." He keeps his left hand on my neck, and his right one takes up my left, his fingers playing a teasing game with my palm, then twining, lacing our fingers together. He glances down and touches the band on my ring finger. "Maybe it'd be better if I go."

I grip his hand in mine, tightly. "No. Please stay."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." I bring my free hand up to clasp him by the back of his head, and pull him close. His short hair is so soft against my skin. Our lips lock together and I'm drowning in sensations he's stirring in my body.

He's gentle, his hands freely roaming over the robe I'm still wearing, and I begin my own exploration of his body, even as Jim's feather light touch finds its way under the neckline of the silver shot white cloth. I turn slightly aggressive and help him to lose the sweater he is wearing then start on the buttons to his shirt, sliding it off his wonderfully muscled shoulders, just as my robe slips off my own.

"Oh, gods. Yes." His lips are starting to drive me towards the madness that is blind passion and lust as he takes his kisses from my mouth down my throat, stopping at my breasts where he pays exquisite attention to both, before untying the belt of my robe. He's near my naval before I stop him, and practically crawl on top of him, starting my own trail of kisses from his throat, working my way downward even as my hands, joined by his own, work his belt free and start to unzip his pants.

I'm just starting to slide those jeans over his hips, discovering, to my delight, he's not encumbered by more layers, when the tingling which has nothing to do with my arousal zips up my spine into my head. Jim must have heard something, for we're both moving at the same time; I've just pulled my robe back on, he's trying to button up his shirt, when the door in the bedroom opens.

"Lee? You still awa--" LaFollet walks into the room and stops dead in his tracks.

* * *

Jan-Michel LaFollet, having made arrangements for John David to watch Lee Eolia for him, left the Excelsior at noon to track down a few buddies of his from his time in the Navy, men and women who might be able to dig up the information he needed. 

At seventeen thirty hours, he realized there was no way for him to get back to Cascade from Seattle before the others returned, and Lee would start to worry about him. He still had to stop and file his report on the incident last night with the Watchers. Pulling over at a public rest stop, he placed the call to the hotel, leaving a message for Lee. That done, he got back in the rental car he'd had delivered to him, thus leaving the Lexus for John and Lee to use if needed, and got back on the highway. 

In five hours, he'd managed to track down the one person who could possibly shed some light on QuestScape and its owner. He was to meet his contact in two hours, at a Seattle coffee bar of all places. Locating the coffee shop, he realized he had forty minutes to kill and called the home office of WindHawk Securities.

"Ruth? Jan-Michel. I need a favor from you, sweetie." He listened as the secretary asked about the trip and the news the security check had gone bad. "Yes, I know. It was just a case of bad timing; you know how Lee is. If there had been a problem, she would've backed out of the test." Leaning his head against the smooth glass of the phone booth, he finished asking his favor. "Ruthie, what I need you to do for me is to find the contract Azir faxed to us, the one for QuestScape, and fax it to me. I'm not in Cascade right now, I'm in Seattle." He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the business card he'd picked up from Kinko's, just across the street from the coffee bar, and rattled off the fax number to her. "Send it as soon as you can will you? Yes, I'll let Lee know you're praying for her. Take care."

When the fax came through, he had only five minutes to spare. Deciding to read over the contract after the meeting, Jan-Michel crossed the street and entered the coffee bar. His contact was sitting exactly where they said they would be, in the corner closest to the back of the shop and near the rear exit, their back against the wall. "Stertz?" 

Taking a long drag off her cigarette, the dark haired, light complected woman nodded and gestured for him to sit. "Welcome to Seattle, LaFollet."

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me." Jan-Michel gave his order to the waiter who stopped by the table, asking for an Irish Coffee, then waiting for him to leave before looking at his companion. "So? What were you able to find out?"

Stubbing her smoke out in the ashtray, Brianna Stertz leaned forward. "Plenty. What do you want first? The background on Norman Ventriss or the upshot of what his company was reportedly working on for the DOD?"

"DOD, first, background later."

"Good." Brianna reached under the table and brought up a file from her open satchel, laying it before him. "Yes, there was a theft at QuestScape, but I don't think your boss had anything to do with it. The item which was reportedly taken was a DVD-RAM, holds up to 5.2 Gigabits of data. As to what was on the disk, I'm willing to bet it was the laser guidance system QuestScape was contracted to work on three years ago - and was due to be delivered next week."

Jan-Michel was reading over the file his one time girlfriend had handed him, and found the information on the program she was talking about. He let out a low whistle, just as the waiter returned with his liquor laced coffee. "Thank you." He sipped the potent brew, stalling as the waiter also placed another cup of coffee in front of his informant. Once the kid was gone, he smiled at her. "Brianna, the insurance against theft of this program alone could fund the POTUS Detail at Camp D for a year." 

"I know. Convenient it was stolen, just when the company is about to face trouble that would make what is dogging Microsoft's tail pale by comparison, isn't it?"

"Wait a second." Pulling the faxed contract from his coat pocket, he read over the outline of the job Azir had set up. "Damn! That son of a bitch! Ventriss specified the date the test of his security systems would take place, and that the target was to have been a dummy. Fuck!"

"Mrs. Sadih wasn't on the mark when she talked with Ventriss, was she?"

"No. She lost her husband right after this contract was signed. I think she was going to do this job, honor Azir's deal with Ventriss, then retire from the business."

"She was set up, but I don't think Ventriss was behind what happened to her." Brianna pulled up another file, sliding it over to him. "Mr. Ventriss lost his only child, an adopted son, back in September. Bradley was bad from the word 'go' - was actually caught stealing sensitive data from his father's company, killed the investigator Daddy V had hired to look into the matter - and got killed in a jailhouse brawl while awaiting trial." She tapped the folder. "I'm just speculating here, but I'm sure his son's crimes are what gave Ventriss the idea to steal the program, if only to hide the fact it wasn't working."

"What?"

Brianna shrugged as she lit up another cigarette. "I've got a friend on the inside of QuestScape, in Development, and as of two weeks ago, he tells me they couldn't get the program to boot up without smoking the motherboards of seven computers."

Jan-Michel sank back into his chair. "It's a dud. He can't deliver on his contract with the Department of Defense, so he arranges for WindHawk to take the fall - maybe even arranging to have the program destroyed before Lee ever walked into the building - and he collects a huge insurance settlement."

"More than that, Jan. The DOD probably will extend his contract and he could have a new team start from scratch instead of trying to fix the program he already had. What needs to happen to forestall that is for the disc to be found, intact, and turned over to DOD."

"I let Lee walk right into the middle of this shit." He took a huge drink of his coffee, relishing the burning sensation the heated alcohol left behind in his throat. "Damn, I had a feeling I should've stopped her, but I allowed her to talk me into going along."

Brianna leaned over the table, catching the blond man's hand in her own, squeezing it hard. "You couldn't have known, Jan. Don't beat yourself up over this." Waiting until he had his emotions under control, she asked her own questions. "So, tell me. Report, Watcher."

Falling into a familar procedure, Jan-Michel put away his bodyguard persona and became the Watcher he was, giving the Archivist a full report, omitting his new status, about the previous evening's events. Two more cups of Irish Coffee and 90 minutes later, he left the coffee shop to return to Cascade. 

It was well after eleven when he pulled up to the Excelsior, but he still wasn't in the mood to return to his room or report to Eolia what he'd found out about Ventriss and QuestScape. He'd lied to Brianna, the woman who had recruited him into the Watchers, the woman he'd once loved. He hadn't admitted his Immortality, nor that he felt he was growing too close to Eolia, maybe even falling in love with her - an admission of either of those facts could get him pulled from his post as her Watcher. Maybe even force him to resign as her employee, her bodyguard, and she was too vulnerable right now to have that kind of upheaval in her life. 

The hotel's private bar, for members and guests only, was still open and he needed a drink to wash away the pain and taste of the lies that had fallen from his lips in Seattle. "Glenlivet, neat." His order was given to the bartender in a clipped voice, not inviting conversation. The man cut him off at seven drinks and Jan admitted to himself he was finally drunk. Paying the bar tab, he carefully made his way up to his room, nearly tripping over a portable table in the hall just outside the elevator. 

That damnable sensation he now knew meant 'immortal in the area' hit him hard, driving away the fuzziness the alcohol had given him as he strode past Eolia's room. "Good, she's here." Keying open the door to his room, he spotted the connecting room door that was cracked open and the light spilling through the slight opening. Muttering under his breath, he decided there was no time like the present to tell his boss what he'd discovered. Pushing through the door, he called out. 

"Lee? You still awa--" The sight before him told its own story. Eolia's hair was mussed, her cheeks flushed and her eyes alight with passion. What shocked him was who she was with. "Ellison?!"

* * *

I walk over to LaFollet and tap his chin, "Close your mouth, Jan." He snaps it shut, turning hurt eyes to face me.

"What were you doing as if I couldn't guess?" The snide remark drops into the room, lowering the ambient temperature. 

"None of your business," Jim growls as I slip past Jan-Michel into my bedroom and leave the two men alone in the living area. I nearly have another heart attack as I hear, "She's your employer, not your possession."

"You have no right, Ellison!"

"Don't I?"

"NO! Get out! Leave! I don't want to hear it!"

"You should leave as well. I won't stand here and let you bad-mouth Lee."

"Oh, I'll leave all right. Kicking your ass down the stairs if I have to!"

"You're not man enough to do that, LaFollet!"

"Try me. Just go ahead and try me, Ellison."

"I need to call--"

"Then do it! But get the hell out of here!" 

Oh, that tears it! I'm not some prize to be fought over. I rush back into the room, barely holding onto my temper. "Jan! Enough! Jim, I'm sorry, make your call, I just need to talk to my bodyguard for a minute." I grip my Watcher by his arm. He tries to shake meoff, but I only dig my fingers hard into his muscle. "Now, LaFollet!"

I slam the door of the bedroom shut, after pushing Jan-Michel through it ahead of me, and glare at the blond man until he drops his gaze. "Good. Now listen to me, Jan-Michel Wyatt LaFollet. Jim was here because you weren't."

"I left John David in charge. Where is he?" 

"Dead."

The color fades from my bodyguard's face. I didn't mean to be so harsh, to tell him the news like that, but he didn't seem like he was in the mood to really listen. He sinks to the bed, and I join him there on the edge.

"What happened? You should have been safe here."

I sigh, girding myself to tell the story. "We weren't here. I woke up around two and realized if we were to stay here, because of the investigation, then I needed to do some shopping. I dragged John all over the city with me. We were cutting through a back alley and," mindful of Ellison's presence in the suite, I stick to the story I had told Detective Rafe, "I saw him go down. No noise, nothing to warn either of us. He just fell."

Jan-Michel must have caught on to what I wasn't saying. There is an understanding light in his hazel eyes and he reaches out to clasp my hands. "I shouldn't have left you alone."

"Jan, you couldn't have known. And you could've died as well." I'm certain the Immortal in the alley wouldn't have hesitated to take my Watcher's head after shooting him.

"Who's going to tell his parents? His fiancée?" 

I gently squeeze the hands holding mine, "C and Sharee are going to take him back to Rochester; they'll handle it. I wish I could do it myself, but we're stuck here until this QuestScape business is tied up."

I rise to my feet, eager to see Jim again before he leaves.

"And Ellison? What's going on there?"

I shake my head, opting to ignore the question, and open the door to see Jim's on his cell phone, probably calling Blair like he had promised to. "Jim?"

"Hang on a second, Chief." He drops the phone to his side, "Yeah, Lee?"

"I'm sorry."

"So am I."

"I'm here now, Ellison. You can leave my charge alone." Jim's hand drops from my cheek, which he had barely touched.

Oh, geez. LaFollet has followed me back into the room, and he's still in a pissy mood over what he thinks he saw. "Jan, I warned you. Back off. What I choose to do, who I choose to do it with, is none of your concern when I'm tucked away in my rooms."

"Azir--"

My anger flares. "Is dead! I know that! But he wouldn't want me to just fade away, pining his loss! I'm a grown woman! A woman with needs! You're just my damn bodyguard! Get the hell out of here!" His eyes harden, sending a look that was obviously meant to warn the detective off, before he pivots and returns to his room, slamming the connecting door.

"Uh, yeah, Chief. I'll meet you downstairs in fifteen minutes." Jim hangs up his cell phone, pocketing the device in his coat. "I should go."

"I'm sorry about Jan's actions, Jim. He was out of line." I reach up to lightly caress his face, pleased to see him lean into the touch, and then he catches my hand, kissing the palm before I can pull away. "Gods, keep that up and I won't let you go."

The smile is flirtatious. "Promise?"

Standing up on my toes, I wrap my arms around his strong neck, pull him towards me and kiss him. Feeling his tongue flicker over my lips, I open up to his invasion. All too soon, the moment is over and he's pulling away from me.

"I want to see you again."

My knees weaken and I lean against his hard, now clothed, body. "So do I." A final hug and kiss is all I get before the man leaves me in need, and he's out the door before I can think to call him back. 

Locking the door behind him, I turn off the lights and return to my lonely bed, lost in the thoughts that if I'm lucky, maybe I can get one Jim Ellison to join me--soon. Still dressed in Azir's robe, I turn off the bedside lamp and try to sleep. Damn, I should've asked Jan-Michel what he was able to find out. Too late now, better to wait for him to cool off before I ask.

* * *

Dee wrapped her fingers around the smooth brass dowels of the headboard, trying very, very hard not to simply grab her lover and just take what she needed. His mouth moved down, his tongue leaving damp trails over her stomach, his breath cooling the warm patches, creating goosebumps. Her back arched up off the mattress as she tried in vain to maintain contact. She watched him watch her as his fingertips traced over her skin, moving slowly downwards. Oh, goddess, she was ready, had been ready for nearly twenty minutes, and still he tortured her. His hand stroked over her hip and to the inside of her thigh, ignoring her aching need, his fingers tickling the back of her leg. 

"You like that, angel?" he purred.

"Fuck you, Blair," she snapped at him, and he laughed.

"I'll bet that's what you want," he replied seductively. "Only I'm not ready to give that to you now. You know you like what I'm doing." He bent down, planting a wet kiss at the junction of her thigh and hip.

Of its own volition, her hand let go of the headboard and snagged in his hair, trying unsuccessfully to guide him to where he was needed most. "Uh, uh. You're not playing fair. You promised." Getting up from the bed, Blair crossed the room to the closet, and returned a moment later, carrying what she recognized as the silk belt from her robe. Her heart began to pound in her chest.

"Lobo, you know I don't like being out of control. It's hard enough for me to lie here and not touch you. I can't do this."

"Shh, of course you can, baby. I know not being 'on top' is difficult for you. I'm just going to make it easier, okay?" He looped the soft cloth around her right wrist, tying it off in a quick-release knot, then threaded the other end through the bars of the headboard and tied her left wrist the same way. "See? You don't have to fight your instincts anymore, because it's out of your hands. You can get free any time you want, and you know our safe word." He cupped a hand to his ear.

"The safe word is 'wolf'." She tugged on her bonds, nervous and excited all at the same time. 

Blair leaned over her, kissing her deeply, thoroughly, then ran his hands down her body, followed more slowly by his mouth. He teased her breasts with tiny licks and bites, hardening her nipples into points he sucked and caressed. He moved down over her stomach, his hands rubbing in long strokes over her abs and down her thighs, while he kissed and licked and nipped at her smooth skin. She could feel herself surrendering under his touch as every nerve ending came alive. "That's it, lover. Relax for me."

He moved between her thighs, his hands and mouth still teasing, still avoiding the area she wanted him so desperately to touch. He was kissing his way up her inner thigh, having flipped her legs over his shoulders, blowing oh so gently on her hot, damp skin. She felt her muscles quivering in anticipation, needing him to taste her, needing to climax from that intimate caress--

And the phone rang.

"Damn it!"

"Son of a bitch! Hold that thought, honey." Disentangling himself from between her legs, Blair fumbled for the phone. "What!"

"Didn't you ever hear of saying 'hello' when you answer the phone?"

"Jim, this is not a good time." The hand not holding the phone began to stroke Dee's stomach, and he was rewarded with a low moan.

"You told me to call when I needed picked up. I need picked up. Hang on a second, Chief." Blair found himself listening to a slightly muffled conversation. "Yeah, Lee?"

"I'm sorry."

"So am I."

"I'm here now, Ellison. You can leave my charge alone." Uh-oh. Who in the hell is that?

"Jan, I warned you. Back off. What I choose to do, who I choose to do it with, is none of your concern when I'm tucked away in my rooms." Must have been LaFollet. Sounds like Jim did exactly what Blair had warned him about. 

"Azir--"

"Is dead! I know that! But he wouldn't want me to just fade away, pining his loss--" Jim must have covered the phone with his hand, because the rest of the words were muffled. Blair winced at the sound of a door being slammed as the sound normalized again.

"Jim, man, are you still there?"

"Uh, yeah, Chief. I'll meet you downstairs in fifteen minutes." 

Hanging up the phone, Blair looked back at Dee. "Did you get all that?"

Sighing, she said, "Yeah, I got all that. Sounds like I will have to do some smoothing of ruffled feathers. I think Lee and I ought to do brunch tomorrow." 

"Angel, I'm sorry, I don't want to leave you this way." He was already off the bed, pulling on his jeans.

"Think of it this way, I'll be waiting for you when you come back." Dee licked her lips seductively, and Blair suddenly had a problem getting his zipper up.

Yanking a sweatshirt over his head, he turned around to face her. "You still going to be tied up?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "You want me to be?"

He shuddered, and knew she was probably overdosing on the pheromones rolling off of him. Leaning over the bed, Blair kissed her, feeling her tongue slide over his. When they parted, he said, "Yeah, I wanna come back to find you just like this. Wild and untamed and dangerous."

She growled at him. "Tell Ellison no stops on the way back."

Blair headed down the stairs. "Right! No stops! And he owes me and you big time!"

* * *

Blair turned the truck onto the street leading to Lee's hotel. He'd been thinking about what he was going to say to Jim from the moment he'd left Dee's apartment, and he still hadn't come up with the right approach. He slapped his hand against the steering wheel. Damn it, he just should have come back after dropping Dee and Megan off. With both himself and Jim there, any impropriety could have been avoided. He shook his head. He couldn't believe Jim. As many times as he'd gotten in trouble with female witnesses and suspects before, he'd still gone ahead and done it again, judging by the argument Blair had overheard. 

He remembered the conversation he'd had with Dee earlier in the evening. "Then don't you think you owe Jim the opportunity to find this kind of happiness? He's the only one who can say whether or not he can deal with a relationship with one of us." Blair wanted Jim to be happy, he really did, and if Jim decided Lee Eolia was the woman for him, then he would give his blessings, regardless of his own feelings toward the Immortal. But right now she was a suspect in a case that was becoming more confusing by the moment. It was not the time to be starting a relationship, as Blair knew painfully well. Maya's face flitted through his memory, and he gripped the wheel a little tighter. If Jim hadn't learned from his own disastrous experiences, then he should have learned from Blair's. _And as his Guide, I have the unenviable task of pointing that out to him, without betraying my Watcher's Oath. Perhaps a little humor to start off with?_

Tires squealed on wet pavement as Blair pulled the blue-and-white Ford to a stop under the overhang in front of the Excelsior. Yanking open the passenger door, Jim swung inside. Letting out the clutch and shifting into drive, Blair broke the silence. "Your timing really sucks, man," he said with a grin.

"Hmm? What? Thanks for the lift." Jim was staring distractedly out the window. 

Sighing, Blair slid around a corner, the truck fish-tailing for a moment before straightening out. Ellison grabbed reflexively for the dashboard, but didn't comment, his lack of response quite out of character. "Okaaaay, is the real Jim Ellison being held prisoner on some alien space ship?"

"Sorry, Chief. Guess my mind's still back at the hotel."

Uh-huh. Along with some other parts of his anatomy, if Blair knew his partner. "You didn't listen to a word I said earlier, did you?"

The other man turned his head toward Blair, his brow creasing in confusion. "You told me my timing sucked."

Blair shook his head and slammed on the brakes as the stoplight shifted from yellow to red. "I mean, from earlier tonight. My advice to you, guide to sentinel. You know--Jim, you don't know what you're getting into. Redheads and you don't mix, yada, yada, yada. Went in one ear and out the other, right?" He tried to keep his tone light, but his expression was serious.

Jim growled in his throat. "Chief, not now." Blair began to pull forward now that the light had turned green. "Christ! Watch where you're going, you almost hit that car!"

"Sorry! Sometimes you just make me so damn mad, you know? Like tonight, when from the moment you said you were staying with Lee, I knew you weren't thinking straight. Maybe you should've called me sooner--or taken a cold shower, a walk in the rain, something to cool down."

"Oh for god's sake, Sandburg!"

"I heard that argument Lee had with LaFollet. Sounded to me like the two of you got a little carried away and got caught."

"Shut up. It wasn't anything like that."

"Oh, no? I don't need super senses to smell perfume all over you. And 'I'm here now, Ellison. You can leave my charge alone,' doesn't seem like a friendly 'hello' to me. LaFollet isn't someone to mess with Jim, and neither is Lee."

Ellison's eyes narrowed as he stared at his partner. "You know something I don't?"

"I know you. And you don't have the best track record when it comes to getting involved with suspects. The names Laura, Lila and Veronica ring any bells? And let's not get started on Alex Barnes." Blair received a snort in reply. "Fine, be that way. Just don't come running to me when things don't turn out the way you planned." He skidded through the turn onto Prospect Avenue.

"What is with you? And why are you taking it out on my truck?" The sentinel turned toward his guide, and Blair recognized the look of concentration on his face. He was being put under the Ellison microscope. "I interrupted something when I called, didn't I? Is that why I'm getting the third degree about my love life all of a sudden, because I interrupted yours?"

Blair flashed him a grin of triumph. "So now you're admitting you were putting the moves on her and got caught with your hand in the cookie jar." 

Jim shrugged. "It's not like you've never been in the same situation. I remember last night, for example."

Bumping over the curb into the parking lot of 852, Blair shoved the truck into park and shut off the engine. "Sleeping with my girlfriend and screwing a suspect are two very different things, Jim." Hopping out of the Ford, he slammed the door and walked toward the building. Jim caught up with him on the second floor landing, grabbing Blair by the arm. His eyes flashing in frustration, Blair wrenched out of his grasp, but made no move to continue up the stairs. 

"I don't need a watchdog, Sandburg. I certainly don't need you to tell me how to do my job and I resent the idea that you think I can't take care of myself when it comes to women. I hope you're planning on spending the rest of the night at Dee's place, because if you're entertaining any thoughts of continuing this conversation, I don't want you in ours." Taking the last of the stairs two at a time, Jim unlocked the door of 307 and slipped inside, closing the door and throwing the deadbolt, effectively locking his roommate out. 

"Great! Just great, Sandburg! You handled that so well--not!" Blair used his key to Diandra's loft to let himself back in. Moving quietly across the studio, he started to strip out of his clothes as he climbed the spiral staircase to the master bedroom. "Dee? Angel?" No soft voice answered his queries. Reaching the top of the stairs, he saw his lover had fallen asleep, her hands still tied by the silk belt to the headboard. Not wanting her to wake with stiff muscles, he untied the belt and released her arms. Crawling into the bed with her, he snuggled up against her back, whispering, "Jim still owes us both, angel."

* * *

After tossing and turning most of the night, Jim stumbled out of bed just before ten in the morning. His head had still been reeling when he'd gone to bed as he mentally reviewed the QuestScape Incident, his roommate's cryptic words, and what had nearly happened between himself and Lee Eolia. Jim had fallen into a restless sleep sometime around four AM. As he pulled on his robe, he did what had become a habit in the past few years; he scanned the loft with his senses, looking to locate his Guide, and found nothing.

Swearing at himself, Jim stomped down the stairs while sending his hearing ranging out even further, trying to see if, by chance, Blair had stayed overnight in Pallas' apartment. The lack of any sounds over there bothered him until he recalled his last words to his friend and worse, his actions. "You locked him out, Ellison. You didn't even really pay any attention to what it was he was trying to tell you."

Readying the coffee maker, he set it to brew while he took a shower. Sundays were normally his day off to relax, putter around the apartment, cleaning or sometimes just taking a long drive or a fishing trip. He was shaving when his whirling thoughts about the encounter with Ventriss suddenly stopped and congealed for him. Jim managed to nick his chin with his twin edged blade as he jerked from the hard thought. "Damn it! Just how in the hell did he know to ask Connor about a drive?" Rinsing his blade, toweling off his face, he continued to ponder the question. "I didn't tell him, neither did Connor or Simon. Who called him? Could they have dropped the ball?"

Speeding through the rest of his morning routine, Jim gathered up his and Connor's notes and reports on the incident from Friday night and decided to take them in to the station. 

Once there, his first stop was the Communications Office to have the phone logs from late Friday night until early Saturday morning pulled, along with the tapes. Then he stopped by Forensics, checking to see if they had found anything that might lead him to who had attacked Lee in the alley and had murdered her bodyguard. The technician on duty coolly informed him that the lab was still sorting through everything, but they had managed to clear the rather ornate dagger, newly purchased if the receipt was any indication, and it could be released if needed.

Jim thanked the harried technician and left the lab. Taking the logs, tapes of all the phone calls that either came into or went out from the central precinct, and the notes and files up to Major Crimes, he was surprised to find Inspector Megan Connor already there. She was sitting at her desk, reading over a thick file and scribbling notes every now and then in a notepad. 

Dropping his load on his desk, he crossed over to the Inspector. "Morning, Connor."

Megan nearly threw her pen at him. "Ellison! Don't. Do. That!" He could hear her heart racing, and she took a deep breath before growling, "Bloody heart attack in the making. You trying to get rid of me, Jimbo?"

Jim smiled, amused at her reaction. "Sorry about that, Megan. Thought that you would've heard me come in."

"That's your area of expertise, not mine, mate."

Trying to see what had her so engrossed, he nodded and leaned over her shoulder. "So? What's got you so wound up this morning?"

Flipping the file over so that the senior detective could see the case number and header, she replied, "Captain suggested that I read up on this case, to get a feel for how you and Sandy might react. And to maybe understand why you and Mr. Ventriss seem to get along like water and fire."

Reading the case header, Jim sighed. "The Chung murder. Can't say that I'm sorry that the punk that killed him is dead."

"That would be Bradley Ventriss, right?"

"Brad. Yeah, that's the one." He started to walk back towards his desk, not wanting to rehash the case. 

Megan reached out and managed to snag him by the sleeve of his jacket, pulling him back. "Jim, I get the impression that there is more to this old case than what is in the reports. I was on vacation when this went down back in May and it was out of the news when I got back. Then Sandy and I were undercover on the Cristo case when the kid was killed. Please, talk to me."

Jerking his arm away from her, then immediately regretting the action, he blew out a frustrated snort and nodded. "Okay. But not here." There were only a few uniforms and plainclothes officers in the bullpen, along with one civilian aide; but going strictly from memory, none of them had been involved in the Chung case. And while telling Connor what had happened might color her perception of Ventriss, and the case they were working now, he felt that she had a right to know.

Megan managed a quirky smile. "I could use a break, been here since before nine." She rose from her seat as he nodded, accepting her choice of locations to talk in.

"I thought that you and Dee worked out on the weekends?" Jim questioned as he led the way into the break room, holding the door for her, then closing it and engaging the lock.

"Normally." She walked over to the microwave and, after filling a cup with water, placed it in the machine to heat it up and pulled out a tea bag from the stash Jim knew she and Sandburg had placed in one of the drawers. "I think Diandra felt I could use the break after the pounding that she gave me yesterday morning. Any way, she called me early this morning, saying she had other stuff to take care of and hoped that I didn't mind her begging off." Jim moved over to the coffee maker and poured himself a large mug of the bitter brew. The microwave dinged, and after setting the tea in the water to steep, she joined him at the table. Sitting down across from him, she said, "Okay, so tell me everything."

"You read the charges against Brad Ventriss?"

"Sure. Conspiracy to commit Theft, Breaking and Entering, and Murder. The charges of Theft, B&E and Murder after the crime was done. Strong Arm Robbery, Terroristic Threatening, Battery in the Third, Aggravated Assault on a Teacher or other School Official, Computer Records Tampering, Inference with Governmental Operations, Conspiracy to Defraud, Fraud, Introduction of a Controlled Substance into another, Rape--" The incredulous look on his face stopped her.. "What? Did I miss something?"

"You did that all from memory?"

"I was taking careful notes. About the only thing you didn't charge the kid and his girlfriend with was treason against the crown." 

"We thought about it." Jim sipped his coffee, his expression showing he was still trying to grasp just how she had managed to memorize all the charges that he and Joel Taggart had piled on Brad Ventriss. "How far into the file did you get?"

"Far enough to find that Susanne Nadine is doing the minimum sentence possible for her part in the crimes and that charges that were placed against Henry Nadine and Norman Ventriss, but not why they are still out walking the streets of Cascade. Back home, in Australia, Ventriss Senior and Henry Nadine would have been locked away until their trial dates."

"And what were those charges against the fathers?"

"You want the whole she-bang?" At his nod, she closed her eyes and recited, "Aiding and Abetting Felony Flight to Avoid Prosecution, Interference With Governmental Operations - specified as a Police investigation, and quite a few conspiracy charges. Mostly tied into the fact that they knew that their children had committed murder, theft, B&E, and strong armed robbery and still assisted them in their flight from justice."

"Do you know what happened with those charges, Connor?" Jim looked at her, saw her negative shake of her head and his grip nearly broke the cup in his hands. "They were dropped. Not even the Federal Government wanted to touch them after Ventriss' son died while in custody."

"Why?!?"

He snorted. "Politics. And a City/County Prosecutor who was afraid of the possible lawsuits that Ventriss and the Nadines could have filed against the City, the Police Department and yours truly."

"Bugger me."

* * *

Dee rapped on the door of the Presidential Suite, then took a step back. "Are you sure they're in?" Blair asked.

"Oh, yeah, they're there. My spidey sense is tingling." She was rewarded with a giggle from him. "Are you sure Jim won't be ticked that you just took off without talking to him this morning?"

Blair shrugged. "Maybe, but I couldn't get into the loft if I'd wanted. He locked me out last night."

"What? You didn't tell me that."

"You were asleep. I didn't want to wake you just to bitch about stubborn sentinels."

Slipping an arm around his waist, she pulled him into a one-armed hug. "I'm sorry about falling asleep on you. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

He kissed her cheek. "Believe me, I'm not worried about it." The door to the suite opened at that moment, revealing a cautious Jan-Michel.

"Mr. Sandburg, Dr. Pallas, is Lee expecting you?" He opened the door just enough for them to enter, and closed it behind them, then returned his gun to the holster he wore over his shoulder.

Dee raised a quizzical eyebrow at him. "Who were you expecting?"

"I--no one, that's just the thing. Can't be too careful." Crossing the living area, he knocked on the bedroom door. "It's okay, Lee. It's just Dr. Pallas and Blair Sandburg."

The door opened and Lee entered. Walking over to Dee, she gave her a hug. "Dee, I wasn't expecting you."

"I thought I should bring this by." Reaching inside her long duster, she produced the sword they had retrieved the night before along with the wire bolo, handing them both to the other woman. "You're going to have to have the edge re-sharpened." Shrugging out of her coat, she laid it on one of the chairs and took a seat on the couch. Following her lead, Blair did the same.

Eolia looked the blade over carefully, immediately noticing the nicks. "Damn it! And I didn't think to bring my whetstone with me." She turned her attention to the wire. "What in the hell? Where did you find this, Diandra?"

"It was wrapped around the blade. Reminds me of a bolo."

"It's called a StrungBuck round. Not sold in the open market. Good thing I ducked when I did." She dropped the item in question on the coffee table, then wiped her hands down her pants leg.

"I should say so!"

Laying the sword aside, Lee dropped onto the loveseat, and Jan-Michel perched on the arm of a chair. "Yeah, in testing the rounds, the developers actually decapitated a few target dummies. Not the way I want to leave this life, you know?" 

Blair leaned forward in his seat slightly, eyeing the strange weapon now lying on the coffee table. "So who would use such a weapon? Not any thief I've ever run into."

"They are mostly used by the Federal government agencies. I know the CIA used them back in the early 90's. But unless a shipment was stolen or misdirected, I don't see how someone could get their hands on them. As for who would use such a thing?" Lee shrugged. "I just don't know." 

Dee chewed her lip, turning her suspicion over in her mind. Finally, she spoke her fear aloud. "An Immortal perhaps? Though the odds of it hitting the intended victim at just the right angle would be too high to make it really effective as a weapon. A sword is still more accurate." 

"I don't think so. Like you said, too inaccurate to make sure you get the job done. Not to mention, there's no honor in using that type of weapon in combat." Lee folded her arms across her chest, and Dee wondered at the defensive posture, automatically tuning in to her with her senses.

"Not all Immortals share our sense of honor, Lia. Besides, you would know if he were immortal, wouldn't you?" Lia's heart rate sped up slightly, but not any more than could be expected by remembering a traumatic experience.

"I think so, but I'm not sure. I mean, look at Jan-Michel. I used to be able to sense preemies, but I didn't with him." 

Dee noticed that Blair and Jan-Michel were engaged in some form of silent communication. "Okay, what is it? The two of you know something we don't?"

Blair frowned. "I hate to bring this up, but…what if this guy's a Hunter?"

Jan-Michel shook his head. "We have no evidence to support that. As far as we know, his running into Lee at QuestScape was purely accidental. So a thief had some exotic weapons. Is it as far-fetched to believe he's some rogue CIA agent who happened to take some weapons with him when he left the agency?"

Dee felt Blair shudder next to her, and her hand automatically found his, giving it a comforting squeeze. "I have a friend who can look into that possibility for us," Blair replied, "and I'll talk to Joe about the Hunters, see if he's heard about them reforming or any of them continuing solo."

There was an awkward silence for a few moments, as each of them considered the horror that was the Hunters, a group of Watchers who had decided their role was not to watch and record, but to eliminate Immortals. Lee finally said, "Look I'm starved, how about the rest of you?" At their nods, she reached for the phone. "I'll order breakfast sent up, if we're going to be discussing this kind of topic." After taking everyone's orders, she called it in to room service, then settled back down in her seat. "Okay, Dee you've asked your questions, now it's my turn. What," she pointed her finger at Blair, "is he?"

Dee looked at Blair, who shrugged, then she turned her gaze back to Eolia. "What do you mean?"

The other immortal switched to Greek from English. "I've touched him, Dee. I felt something, some kind of power, but I can't tell. Is he to be one of us? Are you training him?"

Laughing lightly, Diandra replied in English, "Blair's a shaman, Lia. Not one of us." Her words sent a visible shiver through the other woman. "A good shaman, as unlike the one who hurt you as day is from night," she soothed, dropping once again into Greek. 

Running a hand through her hair, Eolia took a deep breath, then smiled and nodded to show her mentor the memory had passed. "Oh. Maybe that explains the Aussie, too. I felt a similar... oh, I don't know, presence, from her as well." 

Dee hesitated, shooting a brief glance at Blair, then said, "Megan and Blair share certain...qualities, yes." 

"That's a relief. I thought I was losing my mind, sensing Immortals at every turn." 

"No, there are not that many of us in Cascade, just myself, you and Jan-Michel, as far as I know." Dee gave her a grin. "Seacouver, however, is another matter." 

"No kidding. MacLeod and those that are stupid enough to go there. Not a very restful city for Immortals. I don't think I've sensed that many Immortals since my last trip to NYC." 

"Oh, I find it restful enough. I live in Mac's building," Dee said.

"I thought you lived here?" Lee asked.

Dee slid her gaze over Blair, feeling him squeeze her hand in return. "I split my time between the two." 

The expression on Lee's face softened, and she smiled at them. "I'm glad that you found someone to share your life with, even if he is a mortal." 

Shaking her head in amusement, Dee chastised the other woman, "Lia, your prejudice is showing. Mortals are the same as us. Blair is not 'just a mortal'. He's my heart." 

"I know. Sorry. It's just hard to watch your mortal lover age and die, while you remain the same." Lee pulled her feet up onto the cushion with her, wrapping her arms around her knees. "I think that's why  
Azir's death is so troublesome to me. We were supposed to live and love forever." 

"I'm so sorry for your loss, Lia." 

Sighing, she said, "The worst part was even though we were separated by a whole nation, I felt him die. I never want to feel that pain again." 

Dee nodded. "I know the feeling, Lia. It's what drove me insane when Lydia died." 

"I'm not far from that abyss, Dee. I want to just let go and fall into it, but I can't. Not now." 

"It gets better, I promise it does." Reaching across the space between them, she rubbed her friend's arm.

"I hope so." She switched from Greek back to English. "One other thing I wanted to ask you. Last night, in the alley, what were you doing to John? Why did Ji--Ellison call out for you?" 

Dee had hoped Lee had forgotten about that, but she supposed there was no harm in revealing her ability, as long as it didn't leave the room. "I've learned to use my energy to heal others."

Lee's eyes widened in surprise, as did Jan-Michel's. "How? I don't understand."

" I...just push my quickening outside myself and into another, to speed up their own healing ability. It's hard to explain Lia, and it took me 2000 years to learn." Diandra extended her hand in front of her, palm up, and concentrated. After a few moments, her palm began to glow with a faint blue light, and tiny sparks danced across her skin. "A light display this small is fairly easy. Healing or something more powerful than this can be exhausting, depending on how much of my Quickening I expend."

"Gods, I can feel that, like I did last night. I didn't realize that we could do such a thing." Eolia sighed sadly. "Too bad I didn't know about that aspect of the Quickening before." 

The glow surrounding her hand slowly fading, Dee replied, "Even if I had arrived sooner, I don't know if I could have helped your friend. He had already released his spirit from this world. I'm sorry, Lia, I did the best I could."

A knock on the door forestalled whatever Lee's answer would have been. Getting to his feet, Jan-Michel crossed the room, his gun in hand. He peered through the peephole for a moment, then opened the door to admit the room service waiter. Once the bill had been taken care of and they had moved to the large dining table, Lee's gaze lit on Jan-Michel. "Jan, did C and Sharee leave to go make arrangements for John David?" 

Her bodyguard looked up from his plate to answer her. "Yes. May take a while, but they know they are to check in every hour with me." 

"Good. And what about your talk with the manager here? Can we extend our stay?" 

"That's not looking too good, Lee. Something about a convention and a previous booking." 

"Damn. Okay, as soon as we're done here, start looking for other accommodations. I think the police made it very clear that you and I are not to leave town." 

Dee set her coffee cup down. "That's not a problem, Lia. The two of you can stay in my guest rooms. That will give you access to my workout studio as well." Feeling Blair kick her under the table, she raised an eyebrow at him.

"Dee, that's sweet, but I really shouldn't impose." 

"You won't be imposing...um, will she, Lobo?" 

An unrecognizable emotion flickered across his face, then he replied, "No, that's fine." 

Lee glanced across the table to LaFollet. "Jan, that sound okay to you?"

"Whatever." He looked at Dee. "You have a workout studio?" 

She nodded. "Yes, it's fairly large. Enough room for martial arts or fencing. A universal machine, a heavy bag, etc." 

"Great," Lee said with a grin, "just what I need to train him. And Jan? You'd best get used to carrying a sword, don't think that I missed the fact that you weren't yesterday." 

"Lee, I don't have one, remember? I've worked out with Azir, but I always borrowed a blade before." 

Getting to her feet, Lee said, "Wait here." Disappearing into the bedroom, she returned carrying a sword. "Here, I think Azir would want you to have this." 

LaFollet looked shocked. "I.. I couldn't, Lee. You should keep it." 

His teacher shook her head. "No, I have mine, plus my backup which Dee returned, so I'm covered." 

Dee spoke up. "It's tradition, Jan-Michel. A teacher always gives their student their first sword." 

A bright smile lit up Lee's face. "See, Jan? Can't argue with tradition." Crossing the room to stand before him, she presented him with the sword. "From Saladin to Azir to you. One day, you can pass it on to your student." 

"I…thank you, Lee." Setting the sword aside, he turned his attention back to his food, seeming somewhat embarrassed by the whole thing.

As the meal was drawing to a close, Blair asked, "Jan, have you talked to Joe since you…um…crossed over?"

The new Immortal shook his head. "No, I reported to my superior yesterday, but I didn't mention it. And I don't really know Joe very well. I've only spoken to him on the phone a couple times and corresponded through email. I'm not really sure how to handle my situation."

"I think you need to let Joe know what happened, let him decide how to deal with it. I suspect he'll keep the knowledge to himself, but it's important that he know, to keep the Chronicles complete." Blair gave him a grin. "Besides, it's not like you're the first Immortal Watcher."

"I'm not?" LaFollet's voice was incredulous.

Dee laughed, and Lee looked amused. "Not by a long shot. In fact, rumor has it that the Watchers were started thousands of years ago by an Immortal who wanted to keep tabs on his fellow Immortals. Not to have an advantage over them, but to avoid them."

Blair nodded. "If the two of you don't have any plans for this afternoon, why don't we run over to Joe's in Seacouver, and we can let him know the situation. Any objections?" At the others' head shakes, Blair said, "Good, I'll give him a call and let him know we're coming. I should probably let Jim know where we're going, too."

"And I'd like to check in with Megan, in case she wants to come along. I think she's addicted to Joe's barbequed ribs," Dee said.

"Sounds like a plan then. Lee, can I use your phone?"

* * *

Megan Connor had left a brooding James Ellison in the break room, after his little revelation about the power of money and political clout on the Justice system of Washington State, and returned to her research on the QuestScape incident from Friday night. Now, three hours later, she was looking through the report Lee Eolia had given Rafe after the aborted attack on her in the alleyway.

"That can't be right, can it?" Reaching for the original case file, the one Captain Banks had cleared her to read, she paged through it until she found the vitals and booking photo of Bradley Ventriss. Comparing the stats in the old file with the statement the WindHawk Executive had given about the man who had shot her bodyguard, she muttered under her breath, "Damn, could it be?" Only one way to find out.

Calling down to Records, she requested the investigation file containing the report on Bradley Ventriss' death in the Cascade City/County Jail. The clerk on duty offered to bring the file up to her, but she opted to get it herself. 

Crossing over to Ellison's desk, where the man was still listening to audiotapes through a set of headphones, she tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention. "Jim?"

Looking up at her, pain clouding his normally clear blue eyes, he made a 'go ahead' gesture and pulled one of the earpieces from his ear. "What it is, Connor?"

"I've got to run down to Records for a few moments. I'm hoping Dee calls soon. Can I forward my calls to you?"

Jim glanced around the bullpen, seeming surprised to see he and Megan were the only ones there at the moment. "Yeah, sure. Where did everybody go?"

Megan answered over her shoulder as she crossed back to her desk, forwarded her phone and grabbed up the files she needed. "Got a call about an hour ago. Major pile up on the freeway. Uniforms went to assist just as the call came in from the field that the accident may have been caused by a drive-by. McMillan and Jorgenson responded from our department, along with Jones from the Gang Unit."

"Lucky them." Jim popped the tape out of the cassette player and loaded another one in. "Good thing we're officially off duty, huh?"

Clutching the files to her chest, she scowled at him. "Like you wouldn't have responded yourself if you had heard the call?" Her only answer was a derisive snort. "Right. You find anything on those tapes yet? Or did you really sneak in your Santana and Bad Company collection?" Thinking that was a good line to leave on, she did just that.

Jim winced as the sound of her heels hitting the hard flooring reverberated in his head. Mentally reaching out to turn down his sense of hearing, he dug in his desk drawer for the bottle of acetaminophen tablets he kept stashed there. Washing two pills down with the last of his cold coffee, he grimaced and decided to refresh his cup. Walking into the break room, he found the communal pot completely empty and set about making more of the liquid nectar. 

Once the machine was percolating, he turned his thoughts back to the tapes he'd already listened to, trying to sort out the sounds of the multiple tracks he found on them. The supervisor in Communications had offered to let him sit in her office and listen to the playback on the editing/playback machine - the one that would only play one of the 50 some odd tracks at a time - but he'd turned down the offer. From the size of his headache, Jim was regretting that action on his part. 

The gurgling sound of the coffee maker finishing its task pulled him back to the here and now. Pouring a fresh cup, he walked back out to the bullpen and to the task he'd set for himself, auditory sorting of the multi-track tapes to find the one call with Norman Ventriss' voice on it. 

After reviewing the last tape, and finding nothing on it that would explain how Ventriss had known what was reportedly taken from the lab, he went back to his notes from Friday's incident. Going over the names of the QuestScape workers who had been in the building when the alarms went off, he came across a name he thought he recalled from somewhere else, Sharee Milton. "Wait a damn minute..." Leaning back in his chair, eyes closed, Jim sent his mind back over the last two days. "Yes! Damn it, that's it!" 

Reaching out to his phone, he looked over his notes and found the number that was listed for one Mrs. Milton and punched it in.

"Cascade Excelsior, how may I help you?" The woman's voice on the other end sounded vaguely bored.

"This is Detective Ellison, Cascade PD. I'm trying to get in touch with a Mrs. Sharee Milton, is she still registered as a guest?" 

"One moment, sir." Jim picked up a pencil and started tapping it on the desk. "I'm not sure if this is who you're looking for, sir. But we do have a Mr. & Mrs. C. Milton registered."

"Thank you. Can you ring me through to their room, please?" The woman didn't say anything, just disconnected and he found himself listening to a ringing phone. After seven rings, he hung up.

"Okay, one more place to try." Going back over his notes, he found the next number he needed to call and dialed.

"QuestScape. Shaping the future of technology. How can we be of assistance today?"

"I need to speak to someone in your Personnel office, please."

"May I ask who is calling?" This woman's voice sounded almost as bored as the one from the hotel.

"Detective Ellison."

"Oh! I'm sorry, but there's no one in that office on Sundays. If it's important, I can page the Personnel Manager for you, Detective."

After the now cheerful receptionist took down his information to forward to the person he needed to talk with, Jim opened his desk drawer to pull out a fresh note pad just as his phone rang. "Ellison."

"Detective, Samantha Smythers, you needed to talk to someone at QuestScape about something? How can I be of service?"

"You know who I am?"

"Of course, sir. Bunnie told me who needed to speak to me and Mr. Ventriss left explicit instructions that all QuestScape employees were to assist you, should you call or come by."

Bunnie? Probably an air headed blonde. "I'm just calling to confirm employment on a witness I interviewed after Friday night's incident."

"Oh, okay. I happened to be by the office when the page came out, so I'm in my office. Let me call up the right program. Okay, name?"

"Sharee Milton."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Detective. But as of yesterday, Mrs. Milton and her husband are no longer working with us."

"Excuse me?"

Smythers sighed. "Damn shame too. Sharee was working out great in our IS department and Clancy seemed to enjoy his work in our Hospitality unit."

"Did they give a reason?"

"One moment, I think I still have their papers here... Ah, I do. Death in the family. They haven't been with QuestScape long enough to have earned leave time, and they weren't sure how long they'd have to be gone."

"Thank you, Ms. Smythers. You've been very helpful." He hung up the phone and started to rethink the whole case. Clarence and Sharee Milton worked for QuestScape, but also for WindHawk Securities, the company that was owned by Lee Eolia. He started to scribble his thoughts down on paper, a technique he'd picked up from Sandburg over the years, letting his thoughts go where they wanted to, not bothering to track them.

* * *

After picking up the reports filed on Bradley Ventriss' death in the detention center, Megan made her way over to the coroner's office. She was hoping to find someone on duty who remembered the incident, or maybe even Dr. Dan Wolfe, the man who had done the autopsy on the younger Ventriss. Stepping into the chilly morgue, Connor smiled to herself. "Hey, Dan. Didn't realize you were pulling weekends."

The Medical Examiner looked up from behind the table he was standing at, his hands still inside the corpse on the slab, and nodded. "Only when my assistants get sick and we get a few too many cases to keep in the coolers. What can I do for you, Connor?" 

Covering her mouth and trying to control her stomach, Megan felt slightly ill. The ME was continuing to examine the body and was pulling out various organs, laying them on another, smaller, table beside him. "I just wanted to ask you about an autopsy you did back in September."

"September? That's almost four months back. I'm lucky if I can recall what I ate for breakfast." Dan stepped away from the table, stripping off his gloves. "Let's go into my office, he'll keep for a while."

Following the heavily built Native American into his office, trying to ignore the blood and other stains on his lab coat, Megan doggedly went on with her line of questioning. "I'm hoping you can recall this one, Dan. Bradley Ventriss?"

"Ventriss? Oh yeah! The kid Ellison and Sandburg nailed on the Chung murder." Dan snorted. "Ironic he got capped himself in a damn jailhouse brawl. What did you need to know, Megan?" He poured himself a cup of coffee, silently offering some to his guest.

"No, thanks. Uh, how did he die?"

"Shank to the brainstem." Seeing her confusion, he tried to explain. "A shank is a homemade knife inmates tend to make when they're bored. This one might have even been made from a metal nail file, the entry wound was that small." Placing his cup on the edge of his desk, he walked back around to stand by her side and, with a gentle hand, pointed to a spot on the back of the Inspector's neck. "Went right in here, right between the c-1 and c-2 spots on the spine. Kid must have dropped like a stone and death was pretty much instantaneous."

"I see." Megan nodded and looked over the reports from the Jail investigation team. "They never found out who killed him or the weapon, right?"

"As far as I know." He picked up his cup and sipped from it. "There's another little weird incident that occurred right around the same time. Not related, but weird all the same."

"Tell me. Everything else about this case has been weird."

"We lost a body."

"What?!?" Megan felt her heart racing, her mind clicking into overdrive as the possibilities started to scream in her consciousness.

"I had just cleared Ventriss' body to be released to the funeral home, where it was to be immediately cremated, when one of my assistants came in babbling about a body not being in the drawer it was assigned to."

"Does that kind of thing happen often?"

"No, it doesn't. The missing body was a vagrant, and while I hadn't done the post mortem examine yet, I figured he had somehow gotten mixed up with the ones who had already been cleared to go to Potter's Field." The ME shrugged. "First time that has ever happened on my watch, but probably won't be the last."

Megan nodded, thanked Dan for his time, and left the morgue, her thoughts in a tumble. Bradley Ventriss, killed by an unknown assailant, dead for just over four months, and now a case at QuestScape that involved possibly stolen programs. Was there a connection? Was the young Mr. Ventriss the real brains behind the original thefts from his father's company, or was he just the middleman? Was he really dead? Alone, in the elevator, Megan snorted and chided herself out loud. "Just because Dee's Immortal, doesn't mean they're everywhere. You're reading too much into this."

Stepping back into the bullpen, she barely had enough time to put the report files on her desk when Ellison called out to her.

"Connor, I want to go back over the scene at QuestScape. Wanna come with?" He was already swinging into his heavy leather jacket.

"Sure, mate." Grabbing her coat, the one she knew Sandy and Jim referred to as her 'pink dingo,' she followed him out of the offices and put aside her thoughts about Brad Ventriss. "What are you hoping to find, Jim? I thought we had covered the scene pretty well."

"You had a point the other night. How did Lee get out of the building? And I'm hoping you don't mind, but I need to stop by the Excelsior on the way over to QuestScape."

"You going to ask Ms. Eolia out right how she got out?"

"Nope. I need to talk to her employees, the Miltons. They also worked at QuestScape until Saturday."

They had just reached his ancient truck when Jim's cell phone trilled out. "Just a second, Connor. Hello?"

Megan wished she had half the hearing ability Diandra and Jim had for the look on the senior detective's face was...interesting. Instead, she had to listen to just his side of the conversation.

"Hey, Chief. Yeah, sorry about that, I just wasn't in the mood to listen... Oh? Well, yeah, I think we can make it over there, hang on a sec." Jim looked over the bed of the truck at Megan. "Connor, you feel up to an evening at Joe's in Seacouver?"

"What? Oh, yeah, sure. Why not."

"Yeah, we'll meet you down there. What? Oh, Connor and I just have a few things to follow up on. No, that's why I asked her to go with me. Yeah, yeah, good training for us both. Sure. Talk to you later." Jim shut down the cell phone and climbed into the truck, unlocking her door by reaching across the cab. 

"Jim, why are we meeting Sandy at Joe's?" Megan had to ask as she joined him in the truck.

"He wanted a night out. Dee suggested they go down to Joe's and I guess LaFollet and Eolia are going with them." He cranked the truck over and backed out of the parking spot.

"That seem a bit odd to you?" 

Jim smiled as he pulled out of the garage. "You didn't see it, did you?" 

"See what?"

"LaFollet's tattoo." He tapped the inside of his wrist.

Megan caught the clue. "He's a Watcher? How does that tie in with Eolia?"

"I think he was her husband's Watcher. I called back to Seattle PD and had a chance to speak to the detective who worked Azir el Sadih's death. He claimed the crime scene was a mess, like a violent storm had passed through the area, but the weather that night had been clear."

"So Azir was Immortal! I knew it!" She slapped the dashboard in front of her in triumph. "But if Azir is dead, why is LaFollet still with WindHawk?"

"I think he didn't want to leave until Lee was over her grief. Maybe he's on leave from the Watchers."

"Yeah, or maybe she's Immortal?"

"Doubt it. I seriously doubt it."

* * *

Jim walked from the elevator to the door of the room the Miltons were registered to, followed by Megan. She waited as he knocked. "What are you hoping to find out, Jim?"

"I'm not sure, yet." The door to room 1508 swung open to reveal the husband, the tall Native American who had surprised Jim at Eolia's door the previous evening. "Mr. Milton? Detective Ellison and Inspector Connor," he gestured to Megan, who was also holding her Police ID up for the man to see. "I'd like to speak with you and your wife about QuestScape, if I could?"

Clarence Milton nodded and held the door open and motioned his visitors inside. "I kind of figured you'd be dropping by, Detective. Wait here, I'll go get Sharee." 

They watched as the man disappeared behind a closed door. "Nice digs. QuestScape either pays better than I thought, or WindHawk Securities does." The room was smaller than the Presidential Suite they had seen last night, the one Lee Eolia was in, but only by half. 

Sharee Milton appeared on the arm of her husband, a tiny woman compared to him, with almost twelve inches of height separating them. "C said you wanted to ask about QuestScape?" Her voice matched her body, tiny, sweet and almost child like.

Jim took the lead. "Yes, ma'am. I understand you no longer work for them? Either of you?"

"That's true, Detective. Sharee and I terminated ourselves Saturday, after the botched security check on Friday."

"How long were you employed there?" Megan asked.

"About a month. C and I are what's known as 'point men' - we arrive in the area of a security check long before the principle players, try to get hired on with the company and snoop around." Sharee sat down on a couch and invited the others to do the same. "It's all perfectly legal, as none of the information we send back to WindHawk is of a sensitive nature."

Jim scribbled a note on the pad he was working out of then looked over at the small woman. "There's been a question raised about what kind of information may have been taken from the Development Lab. Do you have any ideas on what was being worked on in there?"

Sharee seemed slightly uneasy. "Vaguely, but I'm not sure I should tell you."

"Why is that?"

"Because, if word gets out WindHawk divulged sensitive information, even in the course of a police investigation, none of our clients could ever trust us again," Clarence answered for his wife.

"Look, Milton, I don't mean to play hardball with you or your wife, but there is a chance someone at QuestScape is trying to set things up in such a manner that your boss, Lee, takes a fall for theft. Do you want to see that happen?" 

The husband and wife looked at each other, some kind of silent communication taking place, then Sharee shook her head. "No, you're right, Ellison. C and I were thinking the very same thing while taking care of arrangements for John David." Folding her hands into her lap, Sharee sighed, then continued her thoughts. "The lab was working on a project for the Department of Defense. I had to go down there last week, Tuesday I think, and replace several motherboards. I overheard one of the researchers talking about how the last patch didn't solve anything and they really should scrap the whole project and start anew."

"Could that program have been stored on a disc? Something easily transported off site?" Megan asked, as Jim was trying to catch up on his notes.

"Maybe. But it would have to be a large disc, a DVD-RAM perhaps. But that isn't the only project that lab was working on, I'm sure." 

"Mrs. Milton, were either of you aware of who had contracted with your company for the security check?"

Clarence smiled, "Of course. The whole team knew. Norman Ventriss."

Forty minutes later, Jim was pulling his truck into the parking lot in front of QuestScape, still not sure what in the heck he was hoping to find. Shutting off the engine, he looked over to Connor in the passenger seat. She had a pensive look on her face. "Megan, you getting as confused as I am?"

"Yes, I am. Did the security chief agree to meet with us?" she asked as she climbed out of the older model pickup.

"Sure did, even if he did grumble a bit about missing his football game." Jim slammed the driver's side door closed and joined his temporary partner on the sidewalk in front of the massive steel and glass building. Once inside, the chief of QuestScape's internal security led them to his office where he had set up a TV/VCR and had several tapes waiting.

"I looked over the tapes after Friday's incident, Detectives, and I hate to admit this--but the quality is terrible. Mostly snow with only a few vague images."

"We'd like to look them over anyway, Mr. Bloch. And could we go over the lab again once we're through?" Megan asked the man as Jim and he set up the first tape for viewing.

"No skin off my nose." Glancing at his watch, he made his excuses. "You know where the lab is, right? Well then, I'm just going to slip down to the break room and see if I can catch the last half of the game. You two need anything, anything at all, use the phone over there and call me at extension 2605." With that, the man left the two officers alone.

"Well, that was easier than I thought it would be." Megan slipped out of her coat, draping it over a chair, and walked over to Jim's side where he was already looking at the tape on the monitor. "Anything yet?"

"No. He was right; the quality sucks. I can barely make out any images on the tape." 

"Step back a bit. Let's try using our heads and your eyes." Megan waited until Ellison had stepped back from the monitor and then closed in on his side, her hand resting on his back. "Forgive me if I get this wrong. Take a couple of deep breaths, concentrate on what you can almost see on the video, let my touch anchor you..."

The voice was wrong, but the technique sound, and soon Jim was sorting through the images on the screen. "Where did she come from?" 

"Who, Jim?"

Stopping the tape, hitting rewind then play, he studied the tape one more time. "There's a woman, about Lee's height. She came into the lobby from the left, but I don't see where she came from."

"A stairwell? The guard on duty had locked off the elevators."

"If so, then there are two stairwells and he only covered one. Damn, she disappeared off the screen, out of camera range. So she didn't leave by the front doors; I can see those." Jim stopped the tape and reached for the phone, dialing the extension the security man had given them. "Chief Bloch? Can you tell me where the entrances to the stairwells are in the lobby? Uh, huh. Okay, thanks. No, I think we're done here. We're just now going to head up to the lab." Turning back to Connor, he said, "There's a second stairwell, north side of the lobby. The doors are hidden by a group of ficus trees."

Megan grabbed her coat and followed him back out to the main lobby. Finding the potted trees was easy enough, as was the side entrance to the building, on the east side. "Looks like this may have been the way Ms. Eolia got out after all. She managed to avoid the security man by taking the stairs over there, crossed the lobby and went out this door."

"Maybe. Let's take a good look at the floor's layout when we get up to the lab." 

Jim led the way up the stairwell the security guard had come up, asking Megan to stay behind, then try to come up as stealthily as she could. Even with his hearing dialed back to normal, Jim told her he could barely make out the sound of her progress up the steps. That little test done, they walked over to the lab, finding the door open, with only the yellow crime scene tape blocking the entrance.

Slipping past the tape and into the room, Megan walked over to where the window that had been shattered was now covered with several pieces of plywood and particle board. Stepping to the side of the covered window, she looked out and saw a large pine tree situated fairly close to the windows. "Bugger, if Eolia jumped from the window to that tree, she's part monkey." Getting no response from her coworker, she turned to find him on his knees, reaching under a deep lab table for something. "Jim?"

"Just a second, almost got it." The strain in his voice as he reached his long arm under the table towards the baseboard was quite evident. "Got it! Damn, look at this, Connor." He held out a business card towards her.

Taking the card, she found it emblazoned with a four color picture of a hawk in flight and the logo of WindHawk Securities, International on the front. The name of Lee Eolia was featured prominently in the middle. Idly turning the card over, she chuckled at the note written there. " 'To Whom It May Concern, your security sucks. Lee Eolia, President, WindHawk'. Looks like she was telling the truth."

"Looks that way to me, too. I wonder who tried to kill her while she was in here." Jim looked around the room again. "I don't think forensics missed anything else. What was that comment you made about a monkey, Megan?"

"I'll show you. Come over here." She pointed out the distance Eolia would've had to clear to make her escape through the broken window. "See? I just don't see how she could have done such a thing without getting seriously hurt."

Looking over the tree, Jim said, "Damn, what could have caused that?"

"What is it you see, Jim?"

"About fifteen, sixteen feet up from the ground, there's a gash in one of the branches. More like a slit in the bark." He pointed to where he saw the damage then shook his head. "Sorry about that, I forget sometimes I'm the only one who can see stuff like that."

"That's okay, I'll take your word on it, mate." She slipped back into her coat. "Just don't ask me to climb that monster. Now, if you don't mind, I hear a plate of ribs calling to me from Seacouver."

Jim smiled, then chuckled as the sound of her belly grumbling at her came through loud and clear to both their ears. "Yeah, I think we're done here. Hungry?"

"Starved, like you didn't hear my tummy. If the weather holds, we should be able to make it to Joe's Place in about an hour. If you want, I'll drive so you can put your notes together." She walked out of the lab just as Jim's growling answer came forth.

"Not on your life, Connor. I've seen the way you drive."

* * *

Megan shrugged deeper into her coat as she paced around the large pine tree Jim had spotted the damage in. So much for getting to Joe's at a reasonable hour. _If he's all out of ribs by the time I get there--_ A sudden movement on her partner's part interrupted her thoughts. "Jim?" The man was actually climbing the tree like a young child.

"Just a sec, Connor. I spotted something up here." 

Feeling a little useless to the sentinel, Megan started to pace an ever-widening circle around the base of the tree, kicking at the pine needles and cones. She'd just booted aside a fairly large cone when something caught her eye. Pulling on a latex glove, she stooped down to pick up the small, saucer shaped, black object. It was made of plastic, that much she was sure of, but as to what it was? She hadn't a clue.

* * *

Jim had reached a branch, one of the ones not damaged, and stretched out to snag the object which had caught his attention from the ground. It was a hair, dark brownish red, with a slight wave to it, and about 12 inches long. Holding it to his nose, he sniffed. No scent to it at all. Bracing himself against the massive trunk of the ancient evergreen, he placed the hair strand in a small, zip lock evidence bag, tucking it in his coat pocket, then casting his eyes back up to where he had seen the other damage to the tree. From this distance, he could see the gash he'd spotted earlier was deeper than it had looked. Shaking his head in frustration, he started to climb back down, stopping every now and then to look at the number of broken or bent branches as he did. 

Megan called out to him as he reached the ground. "Jimbo, any idea on what this is?" 

Brow creasing, he walked over to her and looked at the item she held. Not wanting to touch it with bare hands, he held out another evidence bag for her. Megan nodded and dropped the piece of plastic into the pouch, which Jim then held up cautiously to his nose. "Whew!" He sealed the bag and took a closer look at the object. "Just what I thought."

Rising to her feet, Megan rolled her eyes. "Okay, so what in the bloody hell is that thing?"

"If I'm not mistaken, it's a sabot slug. A specialized round used by some riot police to quell protesters. More reach and accuracy than a bean bag shot and packs one hell of a wallop - should you get hit by one."

"Jim, according to the witnesses, and Eolia herself, there were two shots fired at her. Where's the other round?"

"Good question." Digging up his cell phone, he placed a call to the Forensics lab, asked a few pointed questions, then requested a team be sent back out to sweep the area around the east side of QuestScape again. He even went so far as to tell them what he was hoping they'd find.

Megan chuckled as he disconnected the call. "You are not going to be on their list of most favorite people, you know that?"

"I know." Jim smiled as he gestured for her to lead the way back to his truck. "But I'll be damned if I don't get you over to Joe's in Seacouver, so I'm not going to stick around to hear the tech team complain. And don't try to lie to me, Connor. I can hear your stomach, quite clearly."

She reached out and lightly punched him on the upper arm, "Tune your damn ears off my bodily functions!" She stomped around to the passenger side of his truck as she muttered, knowing full well he'd hear her, "Bloody Sentinels and Champions. Between them, how's a Guide or a Companion supposed to have any privacy?"


	5. Chapter 5

LaFollet insisted - no, make that demanded -the four of us heading to Seacouver take two cars. I like the man, I really do, but he's taking this protection thing a little too seriously for my tastes. I guess making a comment about just how many Immortals lived or congregated in Seacouver made him nervous. He's going to have to start thinking of himself as one of us. So for the past hour, we've been following Diandra and Blair - scratch that. LaFollet's been following. I'm just along for the ride. I hate that. I'd rather be behind the wheel of the Lexus, be in control, but the man practically shoved me into the passenger's seat. This is the second time in seven days I've traveled to this city. The first time, I met with my old Teacher. I had a request of him, which he turned down, leaving me dumbfounded in the churchyard of St. Mark's Catholic Church. 

I mentally shake myself, an attempt to get rid of the depressing thoughts closing in on me. No matter how much I long to join Azir, no matter the pain in my heart, I cannot. Not now. Not with a new student to train in the Game and with my heart turning traitor on me.

Oh, great Venus. Just thinking about Ellison, even in passing, is not doing the battle between my head and my heart any good. I want him, I really do, but I'm not sure I'm up to a long-term relationship with a mortal again. 

Turning my attention back to the passing scenery, I realize we've entered Seacouver and Dee's leading us towards the waterfront districts. I try to smile as I break the silence that has fallen in the car. "Jan-Michel, you did remember to bring your sword, right?"

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. The man is actually grumbling his answer. "Damn it, it's not mine, it's Azir's. Was Azir's. And it's a pain in the ass to conceal."

"You'll get used to it."

"Right. Like I have a choice." 

"Well, you do, actually. If you don't want to use Azir's sword, I could give you one of my shorter ones. But," I stress the word, "if you opt for a shorter sword and end up in a challenge with someone wielding a claymore...."

"I get the point." 

"No, but you might." He glares at me. Okay, I get the message. End of that discussion. I look ahead to see Diandra's Jeep Wagoneer pulling into a good-sized lot and notice the building nestled at the back of the asphalt. It looks like a converted warehouse. The only sign it's not is the round, neon red and blue sign on the front that reads 'Joe's'. "Looks like we're here."

LaFollet pulls into the space next to Diandra's car, grousing, "Too many cars, too many people." Shutting down the Lexus, he steps out only to reach behind the seat and pull out his sword and tuck it away before anyone, other than I, can see. "I'm not sure coming here was such a good idea, Lee." 

I chuckle a little as I reach out to take the offered arm and we join Dee and Blair near the entrance of the restaurant/bar. "Jan, looks can be deceiving. I'm sure the food is good. After all, I remember how persnickety Dee can be when it comes to food."

"I am not 'persnickety' - I just refuse to eat food that is swimming in grease." She nods towards the entrance. "Let's go in. I can already smell the ribs and I'm starving."

Blair holds the door open and, with Dee leading the way, LaFollet and I step into the place. The smells are enticing, the noise level is friendly from patrons all having polite conversations--

"Dee Pallas! What brings you back to this fair city? I thought you were headed out of state for the holidays." 

I look towards the owner of the voice that has called out to my old friend and see a kindly faced, older mortal limping towards us. He's using a cane. I try not to stare, but it's rather obvious to someone who's seen what wars can do to a man--prosthetic leg, maybe both, from the knee down.

Diandra hugs the man. "I wanted, no - I needed, to taste some of your famous ribs, Joe."

"Uh, huh. Sure. And Blair, how's things with you? Keeping up with Dee here okay?" Joe broke out of the hug Dee had him in to hold out his hand towards the Watcher.

"Just fine, Joe. Thanks."

"Great. Okay, now introduce me to your friends." His light colored eyes are vaguely amused as he clasps Blair on the shoulders and reminds him of his manners.

"Sure, Joe. This is Lee Eolia," he gestures towards me, "from New York state and her friend, Jan-Michel LaFollet." I shake Joe's hand and don't miss the slight widening of his eyes as my name and Jan's register. "Lee, J-M, this is Joe Dawson, owner-operator of this dive and one of the best blues guitarists this side of the Rockies."

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Dawson." I let go of his hand and watch as Jan-Michel greets the man. No words are exchanged, but the handshake is clearly designed to let the two men ID each other as Watchers. Sort of a 'secret signal' I guess.

Introductions made, Joe leads the way deeper into his place. "I've got a few tables in the back hardly anyone uses, too close to the sound system. Or I could set you all up in one of the back rooms."

"The tables will do just fine, Joe. Thanks," Diandra answers.

As soon as we're seated, at a booth more than large enough to sit more than the six of us - after Inspector Connor and Ji... Ellison show up, a young waiter arrives to take our drink order. Looks like I'm the only one in the mood to really drink. Dee and Blair order sparkling waters, with a twist of lemon, while Jan-Michel orders a large ice tea and I order a Woodchuck's Hard Cider. 

"Sure you don't want anything stronger than water, Dee?" I ask, teasing my old friend.

"No, the water's fine with me. I don't like to pollute my body with alcohol anymore." She grins at me. "What about you? I don't recall you ever drinking cider before."

"That's because, until recently, I couldn't find one I liked. Besides, I really doubt Joe stocks any Tsing-Tao, or Kousmis." 

Across the table from me, Blair shudders. "Kousmis? You actually drink that stuff?"

"Been known to."

LaFollet turns to face his fellow Watcher. "Okay, I'm lost. What is Kousmis?"

"Fermented goat's milk. A very strong drink the indigenous people of Mongolia have been brewing, if you want to call it that, since before the rule of Genghis Khan." 

Diandra shakes her head, slides closer to my side on the long bench seat, and stage whispers, "And he's off. Give Lobo an opening and he'll take you all the way through the culture of any given society in two hours or less."

I hide a smile and a giggle behind my hand as her lover shoots her a dirty look, never missing a beat in his story telling. I'm saved from further laughter as the waiter returns with the drinks and I take a pull from the green bottle set before me. I nearly spit the mouthful out as I see Blair take a sip of his water, smack his lips, take a breath and continue his lecture without missing a beat. I settle back to enjoy the story, even though I know part of it from personal experience, and the company.

I'm relaxed and having a good time until that damn sensation I've come to really hate in the past few days sizzles across my nerve endings. Diandra and Jan-Michel feel it too, and all three of us start to look around to see if we can locate the source. Blair reaches out to grasp Dee's hand and starts to look around as well.

"Adam! Over here!" Who in the hell is she waving to and how did she see him in this gloom? A gentle push from her sends me to my feet, to let her out of the seat. I end up bumping into the Immortal who has set my nerves on fire. Looking over my shoulder... 

_Gods, I hurt all over! And it's so damn dark! I can hardly breathe. Something shifts above me, and a shaft of pure sunlight invades my world. That damn feeling is back again. I cannot pass out. There's danger nearby! A few more stones move away from my pinned body and I realize I'm stuck on my side, my back to the widening shaft of light._

_"There you are. I knew you were under here." The voice is male and anything but kind._

_Feeling the pressure on my back lift, I try to twist around to see my rescuer, only to get a slap to the back of my head for my efforts._

_"Not yet, Little One." Whoever he is, he's speaking the same language Lady Diandra, the Dorian, had been teaching me. There's a grunt, and the final pressure point on my upper legs disappears. "Get up."_

_I hesitate, willing my body to do what it's done for well over two cycles of the seasons, heal. Guess he's impatient and I find my arms grabbed from behind as I'm dragged out of the hole and into the sunlight. My rescuer drops me on the ground._

_"Damn, bitch! Have you any idea what you've done?!"_

_I still can't adjust my eyes to the brightness, but I see something move and I flinch, my hands going up to protect my head. "NO!"_

_"No?!? You're right, I should just kill you now and be done with it."_

_The sound of steel clearing leather sends me scrambling to my feet and I back away from the man I can now see. "Great Gods! I killed you! I know I did!"_

_The hawk-faced man drops his sword to his side, his head tilting back in laughter, long hair blowing in the breeze that is breathing across the ruins around us. Ruins that were once a temple of worship. "You only stuck a knife in my heart, Little One. It takes more than that to kill me off." He brings his blade up, and faster than I can move, he's resting the edge on my shoulder. "You want to kill me, you'll have to take my head." He sighs. "But, alas, I see you've lost your blade, so that won't be happening."_

_"How?" Risking the bite of his steel, I drop to my knees and look up at him. "Are you like me, a child of the Gods?"_

_His eyes widen, and he drops the blade from its resting place. "You don't know, do you? 'A child of the gods,' I suppose that is one way to put it. Oh, get up!" He hauls me to my feet, his hand pulling my chin up, forcing me to look at him. "How long have you been dying without truly dying?"_

_I bite my lip before I answer in a quiet voice, "I was sacrificed over two turnings of the seasons back. When I woke up, whole, the shaman who had killed me took it as a sign I was the perfect sacrifice." Tears well up in my eyes, recalling that horrendous time of my life, the time before the tribe had been captured by Lady D's warriors and she saved me._

_"Damn, you've had a hard life." He sheaths his sword. "What is your name? Where did you come from?"_

_The command in his voice sends a shiver down my back. "Eolia. My clan is gone, all killed but me. Until there was only me, to be killed over and over."_

_"Your clan's name?"_

_"Celtoi."_

_"Celtoi, eh?" He face turns thoughtful, softening the sharp planes, then he grins and speaks a language I haven't heard in a long time. "My friends and I traded with your people once. Horses. Do you still understand the tongue?"_

_I smile, nodding my head. "Yes! I understand! And my father's clan did raise horses!"_

_He looks around the ruins, then reaches out to take me by the arm again, only this time the touch is less painful. He leads the way over to a copse of trees not far from the rubble. Sitting me down on an exposed root then sitting beside me, he introduces himself. "I'm Methos. And to answer your question, young Eolia, we're not children of the Gods. We're Immortal. I really don't have time to take on a student, but I cannot, by my own honor, leave you here without telling you what you are. And what to expect..."_

_We talked for the rest of the afternoon and into the night. By the time he was ready to leave the ruined area around Delphi, where I've lived for almost a year, I'm walking behind him. I follow him for days, not allowing him to forget me. By the end of the tenth day, I'm still behind him, but only a few paces back, as befits a servant._

I move in between Dee and Adam, or as I know him, Methos. One of the few times Diandra and I met after the fall of the temple, she told me of her plans to kill the man who had brought Delphi to ruin and turned her life upside down. I cannot let my one time Savior and my Teacher tangle, or challenge each other. Not here, not in the place I know is run by a Watcher of some standing. "Pallas! Pierson! This is not the place or the time to settle old scores! I won't allow it!"

"You won't allow it, Little One?" Adam Pierson smiles down at me just as I hear Diandra start to chuckle behind me. "I think Diandra and I are past that stage in our lives. Right, Dee?" 

"Oh, most definitely, Adam. But I still don't like you very much!" The mirth in her voice betrays her to me. 

I stand there, in shock, until Adam pulls me into a quick hug, releasing me before Jan-Michel could move to protest. "Who is your friend, Little One?" He's draped his arm over my shoulder in a oddly protective gesture, but not before I notice he's eyeing my bodyguard with some interest. "Nice to see you again, Sandburg." 

Blair nods in greeting to my Teacher as I introduce Adam to Jan-Michel. The two men warily shake hands, then Adam is shrugging out of his long coat. "Well met, LaFollet. I do hope Eolia here hasn't been giving you a hard time?" He's clever, my old instructor, for he's managed to let his own wrist tattoo show as he pushed up his sleeves.

"No more than usual, Mr. Pierson." Ah, my Watcher noticed the blue markings on Adam's wrist. I can tell by the slight widening of his eyes.

"May I join you all?"

"Only if you sit anywhere but beside me, Adam," Dee quips as she slides back into the booth, nudging Blair over a little bit, ostensively to make room on the end of the bench - next to me - available to the older Immortal.

As I slide into place, I notice Blair seems to be nodding towards someone and I glance in the direction he's looking. Joe Dawson is standing at the end of the bar, motioning with his head towards the back room. 

"J-M? Let's go get our reports filed with Joe, okay? Adam, keep your eyes on the ladies, will you?" And they are gone, Blair nearly dragging a reluctant Jan-Michel behind him. I don't think my Watcher is looking forward to meeting with Dawson.

"So, Little One, please tell me he's your new student and you've given up that crazy idea you approached me with a week ago?" The concern in his voice is clear. He's been worried about me. Yeah, right.

Taking another long pull from my bottle of cider, I nod curtly. "Yes. For now. And would you please stop using that old nickname you pinned on me? I hate it."

"Oooh, someone's a little testy this evening." 

Dee jumps to my defense. "You would be too, Adam, if someone had tried to kill you twice in as many days." 

I sit back, nursing my cider to death as Diandra tells the weekend's events to my Teacher. Many times I feel his earth brown eyes on me, but I refuse to look at him. I'm still miffed he turned my request down last week, not as much as I had been before finding a new student in my personal Watcher, but just enough I'm not really enjoying his company.

"Eolia, are you listening to me?" Damn! What had he said?

"Sorry, I was lost in thought."

He sighs. "I asked if this person after you is Immortal?"

Oh, great Lilith! How in the hell do I answer that? And why is Diandra looking at me so strangely? "I don't know."

"What do you mean?" 

"You heard me, Adam! I don't know!" Actually, I do know. But to admit this to them… No, it's my problem. I'll handle it. 

"Keep your voice down."

"Sorry." I down the last of the cider before I tell him the awful truth. "I don't know anymore. I seem to have lost my ability to sense preemies and recognizing a 'friendly' buzz from that of a stranger."

"Lia, how long has this been going on? Was this part of the reason you came to Adam and I for assistance?"

I nod. "I first noticed it when I felt Azir's passing, Dee. It's only gotten worse as time goes by."

"Damn. You're vulnerable like that." Adam shakes his head as he casually reaches out to take a sip of Dee's sparkling water. "Shit, water. I need something stronger. Can I get you two a refill while I'm up?"

* * *

Blair followed Jan-Michel into Joe's office, where they both waited in front of the Watcher's desk until he looked up from his computer at them. Picking up a sheet of paper from his desk, he handed it to Blair. "Is that correct?"

Reading it over quickly, Blair realized it was Dee's Watcher's report of the past couple days. He glanced at Jan-Michel for a moment, then at Joe. "No," he said finally, "It's not correct. She has the gist of it, but she doesn't know what went on inside the church, or at the police station. May I sit down?"

"Of course, Blair, and you too, Mr. LaFollet." Joe must have sensed Blair's nervousness, because he said, "You're not in any kind of trouble, Blair. If I gave you that impression, I'm sorry. I just wanted to know if you could add anything to Judy's report."

Blair sank onto the deep cushions of the worn leather sofa. Following his lead, Jan dropped into a chair. Rubbing his palms on his jeans, Blair took a deep breath and launched into a description of the past few days of Dee's life. "On Thursday at Rainier, I ran into Lee Eolia on campus. She was looking for Dee, and I offered to pass on a message. She gave me a note with her address and phone, and I gave it to Dee, but she didn't call Lee until Friday morning. She set up a meeting for that evening at the church."

"Is that when Eolia dragged you into the church?" Joe asked, the trace of a smile flickering on his face.

Blair chewed his lip. "Um, yeah. Not really one of my best moments, but I turned it into an advantage. I was inside where I could hear their discussion. After some, um, territorial display, they sat down to discuss the reason for Eolia's visit to Cascade." He glanced at LaFollet. "I'm sorry, Jan, but she wasn't there just to complete the job at QuestScape. She wanted Dee to take her head."

Jan-Michel jerked in his chair. "What! You're lying, you have to be!"

Shaking his head, Blair replied, "I'm sorry, but I'm not lying. When she came to Dee on Friday, Lee was tired, depressed. She didn't think she would ever recover from her husband's death, that life wasn't worth living without him. Dee tried to tell her it was too soon, that she needed to give herself time to deal with it, time to heal. Lee didn't want to listen to her and stormed out of the church."

LaFollet leaned forward in his chair, running his hands over his face. "God, I didn't know. How could I not know? I've worked with her, with Azir for three years. How could I not see how this was affecting her?"

Blair slipped easily into the role of shaman, of consoler, of spiritual healer. "Jan, you can't blame yourself. Azir was your friend and you were grieving, too. Eolia's had a couple thousand years to learn to hide what she's really feeling. And even if she had turned to you, you wouldn't have given her what she wanted. It was only natural she'd seek out another Immortal to help her commit suicide."

"So what is she going to do now? Just walk up to the next Immortal she sees and challenge them, then deliberately lose?"

"No, because things have changed since Friday. She doesn't have that luxury any more. She has a student to think about now."

"A student?" Joe shifted his attention from Blair to Jan-Michel. "You didn't mention a new student in your report to Stertz, LaFollet."

"I…" 

"He didn't mention it because he didn't know how it would go over, Joe. LaFollet is Eolia's new student. His first death was Friday night, shot in the head by a thief who wanted his car. He didn't realize what had happened to him until he ran into Dee at the police station when he went looking for Eolia. Dee explained it to him, and when Eolia found out, she decided she would become his Teacher."

Sighing, Joe tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair. Finally, he frowned at Blair and said, "Nothing that involves you and Diandra is ever normal, is it, Sandburg?"

Hiding a grin, Blair replied, "No, it's not. Sorry, Joe."

"As for you, LaFollet, I'll start a Chronicle on you, under a pseudonym. I'll trust you can act as your own Watcher, until such time as you choose to leave the organization. Email your reports directly to me, and I'll take care of it. Any other little bombshells you'd like to drop, Blair?"

"No, sir."

"Then if that's everything--"

LaFollet interrupted him. "No, it's not." He turned his gaze on Blair. "How did you know Eolia had changed her mind about killing herself?"

Blair flushed slightly. "She said so this morning."

"I was in the same room with the three of you, and didn't hear a word spoken about it. Can you explain that?"

"Um, yeah. I understand enough Greek to get the gist of Dee and Eolia's conversation, the part they didn't want you to hear."

LaFollet got to his feet, muttering, "I'm going to kill her…" under his breath. He stalked out of the office, leaving Joe and Blair alone.

Joe watched him go. "I hope I don't have to pull him as Lee's Watcher. He's a good man, but--"

"He just has a lot to deal with right now, Joe, and so does Lee. Give them some time. Six months, a year, and I'm sure they'll have it worked out."

"I hope they do. As for you, my friend, you know what you did at the church was against every mandate of the Watchers. You shouldn't have been there. You are not a field operative. And if Dee was the one who told you it was okay, I'll be having this same talk with her."

Hanging his head, Blair replied, "I know. I got that lecture from Dee, too. She didn't know I was listening when she called Eolia. It was my decision to be there. I know it was wrong, but we'd talked about Eolia the night before and she sounded like kind of a loose cannon to me. I thought maybe my presence there would deter her from doing something really foolish, like challenging Dee."

"Blair, I know you love her, but you can't keep putting yourself between her and a challenge. It's liable to get the both of you killed. You have to trust her."

Getting to his feet, Blair said, "I know, Dee told me the same thing, but it's the hardest thing I've ever had to do, to stand back and not interfere, to know all I can do is give her my spiritual support."

Joe rose also, leaning on his cane. Coming around his desk, he clasped Blair's shoulder with his hand. "I know how you feel, but you'll have to believe that will be enough. And knowing how strong the love is between the two of you, I'm sure it is. Now go have fun. I want to see the two of you tearing up the dance floor."

Blair looked into the older man's eyes, seeing in them an almost fatherly fondness. "Thanks, Joe. I will."

* * *

This night isn't going very well, not at all. I knew I should've stayed back in Cascade. Methos comes back with refills for Dee and I, then leaves, a short pint of beer in his hand. I take another long pull at my hard cider, mostly to avoid looking at Diandra, and shift my attention to the small dance floor. 

"Lia, talk to me. You're being too quiet."

She can't just drop it, can she? "What's there to talk about, Dee? I'm a sitting duck? Or do you want to know what I'm feeling right now, at this moment?" 

"I know how you're feeling, but not what you're thinking."

Damn, she hasn't lost the touch, even after all these centuries, she can still ferret out a person's inner-most feelings. "The truth? I want to grab a few bottles and quietly crawl into a hole and hide for fifty years or so."

"Why?"

"So I don't have to worry about getting challenged. I've got a nice little estancia in Argentina I can hide out in."

"Running away isn't the answer, you know that."

"Yeah." I finally turn to face her. I've been avoiding that probing gaze of hers all this time. "I know, but that doesn't stop me from thinking about it. I can't hide, not with Jan-Michel as my new student." Not to mention the fucking rogue Immortal who tried to kill me. Twice.

She reaches out to me, her hand coming to rest on my shoulder. "Lia, I know how deep the pain can run, but you have a purpose to keep you going. Use the time to train Jan, then when you send him on his way, if you still want my help…"

I smile tentatively, accepting her offer. I sip at the bottle in my hand, realizing I'm starting to feel the effects of the alcohol on my system. 

Dee interrupts my thoughts, "Let's try something, Lee."

"What?"

"Trust me. Close your eyes. Good. Now, tell me where every Immortal is in the room - not including yourself or me."

This is stupid. I feel like an idiot. Wait a minute-- "Meth--Adam's over that way." I wave my hand towards where I think the buzz I know as his is coming from. "And Jan's--Oh, crap." I snap my eyes open to see my Watcher stalking through the crowd towards us.

"What is it, Lee?" Dee's hand clenches on my shoulder.

"Jan. He's coming back, and I think he's pissed." I point at the man then turn back to my friend. "Uh, you might want to leave."

She's spotted him and is already moving around the circular booth to slip out on the other end. "I'm just going to visit the loo and maybe find Blair. As soon as Megan and Ellison show up, we can order our food."

She brushes by a clearly steaming LaFollet, then I'm alone with him as he slides into the booth beside me, forcing me to move deeper into the circle. "Didn't the meeting go well?"

"You lied to me, Lee. Why?"

"About what?"

"Your reasons for taking on the QuestScape contract yourself. I let you come ahead, catching the rental at Sea-Tac alone. You used that time to contact Diandra and asked her to take your head."

Sandburg, you are a walking dead man. He must have told the older Watcher about my conversation in the church, in front of Jan-Michel. "You don't have to worry about me, Jan. I've changed my mind."

"Only because you have a new student, right? What if that hadn't happened, what then?"

"What's with the third degree?"

Jan raises his hand as if to touch me, then drops it. "I care about you, Lee. You and Azir were like a family to me. You're all I have left. I want to tell you--"

"There you two are!" I look up, startled to see Ellison and Connor walking up to the table. I look at my watch and smile back at Jim, who had called out.

"Right on time!" Yes, I don't want to continue the conversation with Jan-Michel. I know if I do, there is a chance I'll slip up and say something about the Immortal who cornered me at QuestScape. "Shag out of those jacks of yours and sit a spell. Dee and Blair should be back soon." 

"'Scuse me." Jan gets up and leaves the table in what I can only call a huff.

"What's got his knickers in a knot?" Connor asks as she slips out of her coat, draping it across the back of the bench seat on the other side of the table.

"He's a little upset with me."

"A little? Hate to see him in a real snit." The inspector sits down, and I feel the seat beside me drop down a little bit as Ellison slides into the booth.

"Lee, got a question for you."

"Cop question or personal?" I pick up the green bottle and sip it, not really trying to hide the smile on my face.

Jim shakes his head in amusement. "Cop. For now."

I carefully place the bottle back on the coaster. "Darn. Okay, shoot."

"Just how did you get out of QuestScape without running into the security guard?" 

Good thing I had studied the floor plans of my target. "Stairwell. Came out behind some potted trees in the lobby. Used the exit on the east side. Satisfied?" Jim seems lost in thought, so I look over to Connor who's nodding in agreement with me.

"I am. Jim?"

"Yeah, that's what we thought. So, any of you order dinner yet? Connor here has a stomach that has been grumbling loud enough to wake the dead for the past half hour or so." He manages to duck the extra coaster the inspector throws at him.

Dinner goes as well as could be expected for a group of people which had a few friends and a few unknown factors in it. Adam joined us at the table after Jim and Megan showed up, so the table was quite full. From one end of the circular bench to the other it lined up like this, Blair, Diandra, Jim, myself, Megan, Adam and then Jan-Michel. After eating his half rack order of ribs, my Watcher/Bodyguard/Student excuses himself from the table and I watch in dismay as he makes his way to the bar and orders shot after shot of amber colored liquor. Good thing I switched from the cider to iced tea - one of us has to remain sober for the trip back to Cascade. Adam must have seen my concern, for after I watch LaFollet down his fourth glass of what I guess to be scotch, my Teacher leaves the table and approaches my student.

"Angel, care to help me show the folks here how to really dance?" Dee merely smiles, clasping Blair's hand in hers, and they slip out of the booth and onto the dance floor. Watching them brings a smile to my face. Poetry in motion doesn't even begin to describe how well they move together. Graceful, fluid, and yet so full of energy that just observing them tells me how much they enjoy dancing, music and each other.

"You may have to drive yourself home, Lee." I didn't see Adam rejoin us at the table. 

"I noticed, Adam. Thanks." I raise my glass to indicate Jan's actions are one of the reasons I had changed to drinking tea. 

"Good. Now, what are you doing still sitting there? I can see you want to dance, so get out there." He waves a hand towards the dance floor and the couples who are moving there. 

"I'm not--"

"Horse shit. I know you, remember?" I had managed to explain to Jim and Megan I had met Adam Pierson in New York while in college, that he had been my student advisor. "Besides, maybe I want the chance to get to know this lovely creature beside me a little more." Putting action to motion, Adam slides into the seat next to Megan, who smiles faintly and scoots over to give him more room.

"Shall we take Adam up on his advice and dance?" Looking up to see pale blue eyes twinkling in humor, I nod. Taking Jim's hand into my own, we slip out of the booth and move towards the hardwood dance floor.

The music changes just as we touch the edge of the floor, from a dance tune with a fast, primal, beat to one that is a little more sedate and intimate. I nearly freeze in my tracks as I recognize the song, 'Till Then', by the Vagabonds, but with a subtle tug I find myself on the floor, held in Jim's arms. 

As the song goes on, I find myself relaxing, actually leaning into Jim and placing my head against his broad chest. His heart beneath my ear is pulsing out in its own counter-beat to the song. We dance through at least two more songs and are just about to leave the floor when the next song over the speakers catches my attention. Looking over my shoulder, I see Jim has stopped on the edge of the dance floor. He slowly raises his hand in invitation. I feel the blush rising on my face. Is he serious? He quirks a smile at me and raises his eyebrow, as if daring me to join him for this dance. There is a trick to making this particular dance truly passionate. I cross my arms over my chest and turn, as if in a huff, ignoring the invitation of my suitor. His approach is silent, his hand warm on my shoulder and I turn to face him.

The Tango. Done right, it's a very passionate dance. Done well, it's been known to cause audiences watching it to actually experience elevated blood pressure and even a few orgasms. At leasSandburg, you are a walking dead man. He must have told the older Watcher about my conversation in the church, in front of Jan-Michel. t, that's the rumor. Jim must have learned the dance as a young man and managed to keep the skills, for I'm soon lost in the role that is required of the female dancer. Before I know it, I'm on the floor, my arms wrapped around Jim's leg to keep him from leaving me. The dance is over and we're greeted with applause. Embarrassed, I let Jim take my hands, bringing me to my feet, and we leave the floor. 

Before we even make it back to the table, Jim stops and pulls me closer to him. Without a word spoken between us, we kiss, the perfect ending for such a dance. The crowd greets our action with more applause, and even a few wolf-whistles. Breaking off the kiss, we finally make our way to the table. Adam and Diandra nod sagely, as if in approval of my actions with Jim. Blair and Megan are another matter. Neither of them seems too happy, and LaFollet hasn't returned from his spot at the bar. 

Picking up my tea, I drain what is left in the glass and turn to my dance partner. "I'll be right back." Rising up on my toes, I place a chaste kiss on his cheek then turn away from the table. I walk across the bar, intent on not only visiting the ladies' room, but confronting my errant student as well.

As I pass Jan-Michel at the end of the bar, I notice the older Watcher, Joe Dawson, is observing my moves and just how much his fellow Watcher is drinking. While I had been on the dance floor with Jim, Jan changed his drinks from simple shots to Boiler Makers. Stopping behind him, I lean against his shoulder and whisper harshly in his ear. "Follow me. Now." I don't even wait to see if he does as I told him to, just march off down the hall towards the bathrooms and an exit door. 

Bypassing the bathroom, I push open the back door and step out into the cold night air. A few seconds later, my student follows me. The door closes behind him and I launch my attack. "What in the hell are you doing, Jan?"

"That should be obvious, even to you, Lee."

"Yeah, it is. You're drunk. Why?" He doesn't answer me. Hell, he's not even looking at me, but staring off into the distance. "You know, being Immortal doesn't mean you won't get a damn hangover. You've never drank while you considered yourself 'on duty,' which you are by the way, and yet--"

"So fire me. I can always find another job." Finally, he looks at me, but I wish he hadn't. The venom in his hazel eyes is hard to take, let alone understand.

"I can't fire you. I'm your damn Teacher!"

"I'll find another."

"No, you won't. The first Immortal you meet will just challenge you and separate your inexperienced head from your shoulders."

"Fine. Then I'll be dead and you can do whatever the hell it is you want to really do. Maybe even follow Azir."

My anger at my student flares and I backhand him before I know what I'm doing. I watch in horrid fascination as he crumples to the cold wet ground like a boneless doll. "Damn." I bend down to check on him and find I somehow managed to knock him out. "I should just leave you right there, but I won't." Pulling open the door, I come face to face with Adam.

"Problem?"

I reach out to him, grabbing him by the arm and yanking my former Teacher into the night. "He's drunk. I hit him, and now he's out for the count."

Adam crouches next to Jan-Michel, and with the efficient motions of a fully trained medic, checks on my student's condition. "Let me guess, right back hand? You were always quick with that move."

"Shut up, Methos. Just help me get him to the damn car." It galls me to have to ask anything of Methos. When we had parted ways we hadn't exactly left on the best possible terms. But he agrees to help me and between the two of us, we manage to get Jan-Michel over to the Lexus and piled into the passenger seat. 

"Guess this means the party's over," Adam/Methos mutters as he closes the door to the SUV. "Tell me if it's none of my business, Eolia. You're interested in Ellison, aren't you?"

"You're right, it's none of your business, Old Man." We walk side-by-side back towards the door we came out of. 

"You came to me to take your head. Now you have a student and have changed your mind. If Ellison is the reason you changed your mind--"

"Maybe. I'm not sure, Methos." 

He holds the door open for me and I slip back into the warmth of Joe's. "Whatever you do, Little One, be careful. Ellison isn't one of us -- he's mortal. Guard your heart."

I stand there, stupefied, as he walks away. Shaking off the thought Methos might still care for me, I quickly use the lavatory then join the others at the table. After explaining what became of my bodyguard and hearing Jim and Megan have to work in the morning, the gathering breaks up.

The drive back to Cascade has me sandwiched between Diandra's Jeep and Ellison's old pickup. Thankfully, Jan-Michel becomes somewhat coherent when we arrived at the Excelsior and Jim doesn't have to help me get my very inebriated Watcher back to his room. Before I can walk around to the passenger side of the car to help LaFollet out, Clarence Milton is there. Waving to the others, I walk into the hotel, holding doors open for C as he literally carries my bodyguard to his bed and dumps him into it.

"I'll be out in the hall until about 4 A.M., Lee. Then Sharee will take the watch." 

"You don't have to do that, C."

"Yes, we do. Jan's going to hate himself enough in the morning, and we don't fly back to New York until after noon, so Sharee and I will be fine." The large Native American is pulling LaFollet's shoes and socks off as he talks then tosses the comforter over the oblivious man. "Go on, go get some rest yourself. I'll stay in here with him for a little while."

Nodding my compliance, I leave Jan-Michel's room through the connecting door and enter my own suite. It's after eleven, and I'm beat. I strip out of my clothes and crawl between the warm sheets of my bed as my thoughts return to the long minutes I spent in Jim's arms on the dance floor. The warmth I feel flooding my body has nothing to do with the bed clothing and I drift off to sleep, content in the idea I've made the right choice. I'm going to stay around until Jan-Michel is trained and to see if there is a chance I can fall in love with a mortal for the seventh time in my life.

* * *

Blair followed Jim into Major Crimes Monday morning. "Hey, Hairboy! Long time, no see! I thought you were going to Hawaii over the holidays."

Dropping his backpack next to Jim's desk and shrugging out of his jacket, he replied, "Friday morning, H, Friday morning. Nothing but palm trees, sandy beaches and the most beautiful woman in the world. In other words, heaven." He flashed the big detective a toothy grin, then turned to his partner. "What's on the agenda this morning, Jim?"

Ellison was just about to answer him when Simon appeared in the doorway to his office. "Ellison, don't bother taking your coat off. You and I have a meeting with the PA's office on the Gleason case." The tall man crossed the bullpen toward them. "You can ride with me, Jim."

"Uh, yes, sir. What about the Ventriss thing? I was planning on spending some time on that today."

"Connor's working on it." His gaze shifted to Sandburg. "Blair, why don't you give her a hand? You didn't work the Gleason case, so the PA doesn't need to speak with you."

"Um, sure, Simon, uh, sir. Whatever you say. Catch you later this afternoon, Jim?"

"I'll try and make it back for lunch," Jim said over his shoulder as he followed Banks out of the room.

Hanging up his coat, Blair dug his laptop out of his backpack and set it on Jim's desk, along with a notebook and a pen. Once he was ready to get to work, he walked over to Megan's desk and gazed down at the inspector. "Simon said I'm to help you out on the Ventriss thing. I read over the preliminary reports Jim brought home Saturday morning, but I haven't seen the ones from the attempt on Lee's life Saturday, or the forensic reports."

Megan tapped a stack of folders piled at the front of her desk. "There they are. Those include the reports on the interviews Jim and I did yesterday. I'm still waiting on the forensic team's report on what they found outside QuestScape."

"Outside QuestScape?"

"Yeah, Sandy. Didn't Jim tell you we went over there yesterday? We found some interesting evidence, which may or may not have anything to do with the case. Jim found a hair caught in a tree branch, and I found the remains of what Jim thinks is a sabot slug, or rubber bullet."

Blair managed to keep his expression neutral, knowing the hair was probably his. "No, Jim didn't mention it. Of course, we didn't actually spend much time talking about the case last night."

Megan gave him a blinding smile. "So I noticed. Both of you seemed rather more interested in your female companions. I expected that of you, but Jim? What's up with him and Lee Eolia?"

Shrugging, Blair tried to keep his tone casual. "I don't know. We haven't really discussed it. I mean, where's the harm in it if Lee isn't a suspect?"

"Right now she's not, but that could change. Ventriss is still insisting there's top-secret information missing from his lab, but we found no evidence Ms. Eolia had taken it. It wasn't found on her, and there was hardly time for her to ditch it between the time the alarm went off and the time we confronted her."

Picking up the file folders, Blair flipped idly through them, noticing the case file on the Chung murder was in the middle of the stack. "Megan, what's the Chung case doing in here?"

"Oh, that. Captain Banks had me go over it to get familiar with the history of the PD and QuestScape. I meant to send it back to records this morning." She reached out a hand for it.

Blair shook his head. "That's okay, I'll make sure it gets back." Clasping the stack of folders to his chest, he made his way back to Jim's desk and began to read. An hour or so later, he got to his feet, stretching to relieve the kinks in his back, then headed for the break room in search of coffee.

When he returned, he sat his cup down on the desk and reached for another folder. The unstable pile shifted, and several folders slid to the floor. "Damn it!" Blair hissed under his breath, then bent to pick up the spilled papers. He was putting them back in order, when a sticky note attached to one of the folders caught his eye. He recognized Megan's handwriting. She had a habit of jotting her thoughts on a case down on notes then shuffling them around until they made sense. This one read, "Description of LE's attacker fits BV." Popping his head over the desk he glanced toward where he had last seen the Aussie. She wasn't at her desk.

Blair looked at the note again. "LE" had to be Eolia, but who was "BV"? There was no one connected to the case with the initials "BV". He reached under the desk for another folder and came up with one labeled "Autopsy Results: Ventriss, B." He sat up so fast he smacked his head on the underside of the desk. "Ow! Damn it!" Blair rubbed his head with one hand, blinking back tears of pain. With the other, he dug through the papers until he found Lee's statement from Saturday night. The description of the man she said had shot at her and killed John David was height: 5'8"-5'10", weight: 160-200 lbs, hair: brown/blond, race: Caucasian. That sounded like Brad, but--Brad was dead. And if Brad wasn't dead, then it was one of two things. Either Bradley Ventriss had pulled the biggest fast one ever on the folks at the city lockup, or he was immortal. 

Crawling out from under Jim's desk, Blair renewed his attack on the files, quickly going through the autopsy results, making sure the photos of the body inside were actually of Brad. As far as he could tell, they were. He tapped his pencil impatiently on the desk. He needed more information. Grabbing the autopsy file, he headed downstairs to the morgue.

Once he arrived in the basement, Blair went in search of Dan Wolfe. He was very relieved to find him in his office and not in the autopsy bay. Knocking on the partially open door, he stuck his head in. "Hey, Dan, can I talk to you for a minute?"

The forensic specialist looked up from his computer. "Sure, Blair, come on in. What can I help you with?"

Tossing Ventriss' autopsy results on the other man's desk, Blair said, "This. I just have a few questions."

Taking a quick look at the file, Dan answered, "You too? Inspector Connor was in here yesterday asking questions about the Ventriss death. What is it you want to know?"

"I want to make sure it actually was Brad Ventriss you did the autopsy on. You did match his identification with what we had on file?"

Dan nodded. "Yes, everything checked out, fingerprints matched those taken when he was arrested. As I told Connor, death resulted from a stab wound to the neck, in the back, penetrating the spinal cord."

The one place Immortals were especially vulnerable. That could account for the fact Brad had stayed out so long, if, in fact, he was immortal. "How long from the time he was killed until you did the autopsy?"

Dan looked through the report. "As I remember, not more than a couple hours. They brought him over from the jail and I did the autopsy right away. There was a big rush put on it seeing who he was."

"You didn't find anything out of the ordinary during the autopsy?"

The Native American shook his head. "No, just your normal, average twenty-something with a hole in his neck."

"Okay, thanks, Dan." Blair got to his feet, and picked the file back up. "Oh, one more thing. How long was the body in the morgue? I mean, before it was picked up?"

Dan shrugged, "I don't know, less than twenty-four hours. It was sent directly to be cremated when it was released."

Blair had turned and was halfway out the door when Dan spoke again, his words freezing Blair in his tracks. "Funny thing, that. I was just signing the release for the funeral home, when one of my assistants came to tell me there was a body missing." 

Taking a moment to school the expression on his face to one of vague interest, Blair turned back around. "Really? Not Ventriss' body, was it?"

"No, some homeless guy. But it happened at the same time Ventriss was in the morgue, and I told Connor about it. Figured I might as well tell you, too."

"Okay, thanks for the info." With a small wave, Blair retreated from the pathologist's office. On his way to the elevator, he passed the doors to the morgue. He paused, peering through the glass at the steel drawers. Pulling the door open, he entered, walking across the room to examine the small card attached to the drawer. If he were an Immortal, just come back to life to find himself in a morgue, what would he do, especially if he wanted to stay dead? It would be a simple matter to switch the cards on the drawers, as well as the tags on the bags within. Viola, one homeless guy gets cremated and Brad gets himself a new life.

An ice-cold chill ran down Blair's spine. Get a hold of yourself, Sandburg! You're just speculating. You don't even have enough to form a hypothesis. You need more evidence. Turning around, he left the morgue and headed back upstairs. If Brad was an Immortal, possibly a new one, then he had to have found a teacher, someone to explain the Game to him. And that meant hooking up with an older Immortal, one who might have a Watcher, who would report the discovery of a new player back to Watcher Central. 

Getting off the elevator on the seventh floor, Blair crossed to Jim's desk and dropped into the chair, snagging the mug shot of Brad out of the file. Scanning it into his laptop, he accessed the Internet and sent off an email to Joe Dawson. Now all he had to do was sit and wait. 

Damn, but he hated waiting.

* * *

I wake up slowly, not wanting to leave the dream I was having. But even as I roll over in the large and empty bed, the images from the dream are already fading, eluding my mind's attempts to recapture them. Sighing, I throw the covers off and sit up. Glancing towards the travel clock on the bedside table, I realize I managed to grab more hours of sleep during the night than I have since Azir was killed. It's eight in the morning; check out time is noon. Time to get out of the sack, get ready to face the day, pack and see if Diandra is still serious about her offer to let Jan-Michel and I stay at her place for a while.

I don't have much in the way of clothing to choose from. I really hadn't expected to still be alive, let alone staying in Cascade as long as I have. I had only packed enough to see me through five days and the police still haven't returned the packages I dropped in the alley where John David had been murdered. I opt for the same outfit I wore to interview Norman Ventriss, with a few changes. The suede pants and matching boots are good to go, but the silk blouse has seen better days, so has the sweater. I really don't have any other shirts that will go with the pants. Then again… 

Stepping over to the trunk that holds all my precious mementos, I raise the lid and start to dig in its depths. My search is rewarded when my hand drifts over the cloth I'm looking for and I pull the shirt out, shaking it free of most of the wrinkles. My pale lavender poet's shirt, a gift from someone back in one of the 'hippie communes' the Company had sent Azir and I into undercover. Back then, we were known as 'Turk' and 'Moonfire' and we managed to blend into the group.

_"Nai, this is beautiful! I can't accept it." I press the shirt back into the woman's hands._

_"Sure you can, baby. You helped me by watching little Bear the other night when I got so sick. This is my way of thanking you."_

_I shake my head, still trying to get my fellow redhead to take the gift back. "I did that out of love, Nai. Besides, you told me you and Bear are about to leave the group, so you'll need this more than I."_

_Her laughter tinkles across the tented grove that houses all the single women and any children they bring with them. "We'll be fine, Moon. Trust me. Now, take this and we'll part friends and with love between us." With a flash of incredibly long, bright auburn hair, she turns away from me and I watch as she gathers up her dark-haired, one month-old son from one of the other women._

Slipping into the shirt, with all the happy memories it brings, I hear a moan through the door connecting my suite to Jan-Michel's room. He's awake. I tuck the shirt into my pants as I enter his room. "Jan? You all right?"

I watch as he clutches his head between his hands and tries to squeeze his brains out. I choke back a giggle, but he hears me anyway. I'm nailed by pain-filled, clouded, hazel eyes.

"Do me a favor, will you?"

"Maybe. What is it?"

"Take my head." He sits up, head still clutched in his hands. "I can't believe I was so damn stupid!"

"Neither can I, but I did warn you." Stepping over to his bathroom, I grab up a glass of water and a packet of BC Powder, which I know he likes to use for pain relief, and carry them over to him. "Here, take this shit, shower, and you'll feel better. When you're halfway ready to face the day, I'll have breakfast on the table over in my suite." I leave him to his own devices.

By the time my student joins me, room service has delivered our breakfasts -- two hardboiled eggs and an English muffin for me, three scrambled eggs, hashbrowns and a breakfast steak for him. Coffee, black and strong, along with a half carafe of orange juice rounds out the meal, which we consume in silence.

"Have you packed yet, Jan?"

"Finished up before coming in here." His answer is low as if he's still fighting the pain of his hangover and afraid to speak too loudly.

"Good. I called over to the mortuary that is handling John David. They'll meet us at the airport at eleven, help us get everything squared away, and then we'll see Sharee and Clarence off." I placed the call before calling to have our meal sent up.

"They awake yet?"

"Yes."

"'Kay."

I wait, wondering if I should bring up Saturday night, or let him do it. I finish my coffee, pour another cup, and then realize I had better broach the subject myself.

"Jan--"

"Lee, about Saturday--" He stops when he notices we are speaking at the same time. 

"Go ahead, Jan." I prompt him, wanting to hear where he's going to go.

He squirms, uncharacteristically then starts over again. "Saturday, I talked with one of my contacts. I had to, or I would have been with you and John."

"Jan, no. Don't go there. I'm sure there would have been more deaths that day if you had been with us." I reach across the table to clasp his left hand in my right, only to have him draw away from me. 

"We'll never know, will we?" He drops his hand into his lap then looks back up at me. "My contact gave me some interesting background on QuestScape and Norman Ventriss." He becomes remote, giving his information to me in a voice totally devoid of emotion. I don't know if it was intentional or not, but he drops that his contact is also a Watcher, and his immediate superior. I just file away the data, ignoring it in light of the rest of his briefing. 

"He set me up?"

"Actually, Stertz thinks it would have happened to which ever operative you had chosen to send in. It just happened to be you. Maybe it's why Ventriss was so nervous when you told him you were to be the entry-man."

"Your contact--Stertz?" He nods, confirming I got the name right. "Did she happen to tell you if she thought the DVD-RAM was really stolen, or does she think Ventriss pulled a fast one on me?"

"She wasn't sure."

I struggle with my anger. "Best guess, then?" I'm getting really pissed with Ventriss and the whole QuestScape fiasco. 

"Mine or hers?" He must have seen something of my temper in my eyes when he looked up, for he flinches and drops his gaze for a second. "Okay, my best guess is the disc has already been destroyed. Too chancy keeping something like that lying around. Or, and this is a possibility too, Ventriss hired the thief who shot at you in the lab, and the thief has the disc -- maybe as insurance against his employer."

"Maybe. But if that is the case, then we really need to find that asshole, get the disc back from him and turn it over to your contact, or even someone over at the DOD." I rise from the table, and start to pace around the room, my mind already starting to think of a way, any way, to go about tracking down an Immortal thief in a city the size of Cascade. The only thing that springs to mind is dangerous as hell, but it might just work. And if I want to implement the idea, I have to tell LaFollet the thief is one of us. I'm not sure I can do that. This running battle between the thief and myself has become too personal, and I want to take him out of the Game. Permanently. 

"Lee, about what happened that night…" I turn around to face my Watcher. "I'm sorry. I behaved like an ass. You're right, what you do, and who you chose, is your business and none of mine."

My temper flares then dies a quick death as I take in his body language. He's still sitting at the table, looking for all the world like a scorned schoolboy, his shoulders slumped and his chin tucked against his chest. "Oh, Jan, I really didn't mean all of that." I smirk. "Well, maybe just a little. I couldn't help but hear your words to Ellison, or his to you, and it pissed me off." I cross back to the table and sit down again. "Look at it this way, you and I have many years together in our future. And to be perfectly honest with you, I find Jim fascinating. Maybe I just want to see if I can give my heart to another mortal."

He nods, finally looking at me again. "I think I understand, Eolia. The last mortal you married, before meeting Azir, you stayed with until he died. First as his wife, then as his caretaker, and finally disguising yourself as his 'lost' granddaughter."

"You know about Alfred?"

"When I was assigned as your Watcher, and Azir's, I was required to read the Chronicles on you both." 

I sit there, speechless. I finally voice my question. "How far back do our Chronicles go?"

I can see his reluctance to tell me, but then he snorts in an odd form of laughter. "Oh, what the hell. The worst Dawson and the Watchers could do to me is to fire me. Azir's Chronicle was fairly complete, starting with his first death in Jaffa in 1192. Yours is less complete. The first entry I found on you was recorded in 1298 when you showed up in Scotland under the name of Leona FitzCarin. But even in that entry, made by a local priest, he speculated you were far older than you appeared."

"I am." He looks up at me, expectantly. "But that is for later. We have work to do today."

* * *

The VIP Lounge of Cascade's International Airport isn't a happy place to be. In fact, my small group manages to chase off others who thought they'd wait for their various flights in the room. Sharee Milton starts crying again as we watch John David's casket being loaded into the belly of the 747 that will take him home to New York. Clarence tries to comfort her, then gives up, knowing she has to work through her grief in her own time. Jan-Michel and I aren't much better. We hate the idea of splitting up the team, but this time it's unavoidable. Due to our involvement in the on going investigation of the incident at QuestScape, and my involvement in the attack that took the life of my youngest bodyguard, we're stuck in the city until the cases are closed.

"LaFollet, you take care of Lee."

"I will, C. And thanks for covering for me last night."

"De nada, mi amigo." I watch as Clarence engulfs Jan's hand in his own. "It's not like you wouldn't have done the same for me."

A light touch on my arm pulls my attention to Sharee, who has dried her tears and is looking at me through reddened eyes. "When we get into Rochester, I'll ask Ruthie to send another team out here. You and Jan need some help to watch your backs."

Sharee Lindsey-Milton has been with WindHawk Securities for a long time, hired to be my personal decoy and one of our snoops. She's my height and her coloring is very, very close to my own. "I've already talked to Ruth. She's getting a team together, but they won't be able to get here until Thursday." Looking past her, I see her husband is about to comment and race to forestall his words. "Jan and I will be fine, C. I ran into an old friend here in Cascade who has offered to put us up at her place. She happens to live next door to a cop, so I'm sure we'll be okay."

LaFollet doesn't even flinch when Clarence nails him with a hard, questioning look, just nods in agreement with everything I just told the Native American's petite wife. Before either of the Miltons can protest further, their flight's boarding call is announced over the PA system. 

After watching the large American Airlines plane lift off from the tarmac, Jan and I head back out to the short-term parking lot and are soon heading back into the city. It takes us a little longer than I anticipated to find Prospect Avenue, and then after a false start, (we headed in the wrong direction) we finally locate the address Diandra gave us. There are several cars parked in the street and a few in the small parking area beside the building. Jan blithely ignores the posted sign reading "residents only" and pulls into a slot next to Diandra's Jeep Wagoneer.

"I'll move the car later," he explains as he gets out of the driver's seat and, once again, manages to tuck his sword away without drawing undue attention to his actions.

"Better. You're getting good at the tuck and hide, Jan," I compliment him as I join him at the back of the Lexus. I sense the presence of an Immortal in the area and sigh in relief as I realize the exercise Diandra led me in last night allows me to identify her from her buzz. I reach out and touch my student on the shoulder. "Diandra."

He nods, accepting my one word explanation for the buzz he's obviously reacting to. We turn at the same time and see my old friend exiting a door on the side of 852 Prospect.

"Thought I saw you pull in." Diandra comes over to us, greeting me with a hug and Jan with a firm handshake. "I'm glad you showed up. I was starting to get worried. Let's get your stuff inside and then, if you're up to it, we'll see just how much you already know, LaFollet." She leads the way to the apartment on the third floor. We carry our bags up the stairs, after she quietly tells us the elevator is down. From her tone, I guess that is a common occurrence here. 

I step into her apartment and come to an abrupt halt, causing Jan-Michel to step on my heels. The place is large! A pad like this, back in New York City, hell even back in Rochester, would run several thousand dollars a month! "Goddess, Dee! When you said you had room enough to train in, you weren't kidding!"

"Of course not, Lia. Come on, let's get your gear stowed away. Have you two eaten lunch yet? No? Okay, then I'll whip something up and once your stomachs settle, I'll show you where everything is and you can get started training your student."

* * *

Blair sat in Jim's chair in the bullpen, swiveling in a steady rhythm back and forth. He chewed slowly on a veggie sub he'd had H bring him back when he went to lunch, Jim and Simon not having returned. He'd tried calling Joe to let him know about the email, but hadn't had much luck in locating the senior Watcher. And since he couldn't stand to just wait for Joe to get back to him, he was doing what he did best, thinking.

Right now, Blair was working on the theory Bradley Ventriss was an Immortal. The way he looked at it, Brad hadn't known what he was at the time of the Chung case. If he had, then he wouldn't have bothered trying to escape Jim when they had pursued the boat in the police helicopter. All Brad needed to do was force Jim to shoot him, or simply jump off the boat and let himself drown. Once everyone thought he was dead, then he could make his escape. So, that meant his death in prison was possibly his first one. Blair shook his head. This was crazy. Brad was dead. He'd seen the autopsy results. 

He could just ask Eolia if the man who'd shot at her was Immortal. That would solve everything. If, and this was a big if, Blair could trust her answer. Setting his sandwich down, he took a sip of water and rubbed his temple. Just thinking about Lee Eolia gave him a headache. He was trying to give her the benefit of the doubt, but all his instincts were telling him she was not to be trusted. His feelings on the matter might have something to do with the fact he could tell Dee didn't completely trust her either. Dee cared about her, yes, but he got the idea that it was out of loyalty to what they had been to each other when they'd first met, a loyalty he wasn't sure Lee shared. In fact, if he went by what had gone down at the church, and the story Dee had told him of their last meeting before that, then Lee didn't trust Diandra. And if Eolia believed the other Immortal was working against her-- He'd told himself he wasn't going to go there. Diandra was a big girl; she knew how to watch her head. Eolia would not be getting the drop on her, of that he was certain.

Now he had a literal headache. Opening a desk drawer, Blair pulled out Jim's bottle of painkillers and shook a couple into his palm. Downing the pills, he sat back in the chair and finished his sandwich. 

There was no telling when Jim would be back, and he'd gone through all the info on the break-in and the shooting. There was no solid evidence to connect the two, unless he dropped Brad Ventriss into the mix. With a sigh, he picked up his notepad and went over his theory. Assuming Brad was the thief at QuestScape was easy enough. Brad had stolen from his father's company before, and knew how to bypass the security systems and where the most sensitive data would be kept. As for the shooting, Brad's modus operandi had been to go after the people who had interfered with his plans, such as Dennis Chung and himself. Lee perhaps could identify him from QuestScape, so it was logical he would target her. The fact she was immortal would only make it that much sweeter, if Brad himself was immortal. 

Damn it! Someone had to know for sure whether Brad was immortal or not. Blair's cell phone chose that moment to ring, and he jumped in his seat before scrambling to answer it. "Hello."

"Blair, this is Joe Dawson. I got your email. The photo you sent me matches a description of an Immortal who hooked up with one Reggie Kinney, stayed with him for a couple months, then took his head."

Leaning back in his chair, Blair stared up at the ceiling, feeling his heart beginning to pound. "What can you tell me about Kinney?"

"I've forwarded his file to your email. All the info I think you'll need is in there. I also included the phone number of his Watcher, Mark Haverill. He wasn't able to get a photo of this other Immortal, but he might recognize him from the one you sent me. Oh, about Haverill, he works for the Cascade PD. He used to be a guard at the city/county detention center. I think he's asked for a transfer since his subject died."

"Thanks, Joe!" Blair clicked the phone off and pumped his arm in a silent "YES!" A quick call to personnel got him the info that Haverill had been transferred to Robbery. Gathering his notes and laptop up and shoving them into his backpack, Blair grabbed the files that needed to go back to records, and headed downstairs, hoping to find Haverill on duty.

* * *

After a quick lunch of sandwiches, Dee gave Eolia and Jan-Michel a tour of the studio. From the storage room under the master bedroom she produced two padded jackets and two face masks, tossing one of each to the two Immortals. "Suit up," she told them.

Jan-Michel quickly began to don his protective garb, but Lee balked. "Is this really necessary?"

"My studio, my rules. And unless you want Ellison to figure out you're immortal, I suggest you wear them. His apartment is across the hall, and he's been known to just walk in if he knows I'm home."

Lee made a face but suited up, then took a couple minutes to choose a practice blade from the ones available, while Dee selected one for Jan-Michel that was similar to Azir's blade. Taking a seat on the bench, she waved a hand at the large room. "Have at it."

After about five minutes, she could hold her tongue no longer and began coaching. "LaFollet, keep the end of your blade up. Your opponent is not the ground." Getting to her feet, she paced around the sparring pair. "Use your longer reach to your advantage. You can keep her at arm's length while still doing damage." Dee continued to call out instructions to Jan-Michel, ignoring Lee's increasing anger.

"Damn it, Dee, would you stop it? He's my student, not yours!"

Dee couldn't help herself. Lee's sword work was lazy, sloppy, and definitely not a good example. "With you as a teacher, he's sure to get killed." Okay, so that was a low blow, but it would be interesting to see how the other woman reacted.

"Fuck you, Dee! I'll train him as I see fit!"

Ah, there's that famous Eolia temper she remembered. "Train him to lose his head!" she shot back. Crossing to the weapons display on the wall, Diandra took down a Spanish colichemarde rapier. She thrust and parried with it for a moment, familiarizing herself with its weight.

Lee continued to spar with Jan-Michel, her back to Diandra. "I haven't lost a student in over a hundred years. Can you say the same?" 

Dee approached them, her sword held low. "I've only had two immortal students in the last hundred years. Far as I know, they're both still alive. Unless you or Azir took Stasha's head in Bonn." She stepped in between the two immortals, catching Lee's blade on her own as she smashed her elbow into LaFollet's face, sending him sprawling.

Ignoring the fact her student was now lying on the floor stunned, Lee turned her attention to Diandra, continuing their argument. "You mean, Heidi? Damn you! We lost her trail because of you!" 

"Me! You were the one who had to take time out of your spying to challenge me! I was minding my own business!" Dee dodged to the side, making Lee chase her across the wide space.

"You were consorting with the enemy!" 

"Consorting! Some spy you were! You didn't even know she was immortal until I told you!" 

Lee drove Diandra back with a swift series of blows, the noise of steel meeting steel almost deafening. "As far as I knew, you WERE the enemy! I had to take you out!" Once again Dee moved out of range, and the other woman followed angrily. "I had no way of knowing she was immortal! I never got close enough to feel her! Azir held me back too often!" 

Dee felt the harsh words falling from her tongue, goading Eolia. "Maybe that's why you're so lousy with a sword! When was the last time you took a head?" 

"A little over a year ago in New York. But I practiced every damn day with Azir I could!" Lee's voice took on a whining edge and her swordplay grew a little more desperate, as if she was trying to convince herself of her skill.

"I've taken three heads in the past 3 months. And I think Azir coddled you. I'll bet I could take your head without breaking a sweat." Diandra slid her sword along Lee's and took a step forward, meeting the smaller woman's gaze confidently, a dangerous smile on her lips.

Growling deep in her throat, Lee raised her sword, stepping back a pace. "Try me, Pythia." 

"I think I will." Diandra shifted into high gear, her blade whipping back and forth in tight, hard strokes, each one taking a good deal of effort on Lee's part to parry. 

After about ten minutes of the sustained assault, Eolia began to back up, trying to evade Dee's blade, but the Champion was determined not to give her any room to breath, to regroup. Sensing her prey tiring, Dee thrust straight at her chest, forcing Lee to parry her blade to the side. Taking advantage of the opening, Dee kicked her hard in the stomach, sending her to the floor. "Lia, Lia, is your memory that bad? You fell for the same move in Bonn." 

Lee rolled quickly to her feet, but didn't get her sword up in time, and a second kick sent it flying from her grasp. Thrusting her sword forward again, Dee was surprised to see Lee back flip away from her, heading for the weapons on the wall. _There's hope for you yet, Lia._

Following her opponent across the room, Dee brought her rapier up for the final blow, just as Lee grabbed a quarterstaff from its place on the wall. She started to turn back toward Diandra, but her foot slipped out from under her on the polished floor and she dropped heavily to both knees. The staff still came up in a defensive move that would have been too little too late, if Dee had been able to complete her stroke. Instead, someone slammed into Diandra hard from behind, sending her sprawling to the floor, the rapier skittering out of her grasp.

Her arm was wrenched up between her shoulder blades, and a knee was planted firmly in the small of her back. Turning her head as far to the side as it would go, she caught a glimpse of someone looming over her. "Get the fuck off of me!" she snarled.

* * *

Jim Ellison entered the PD's Forensic Lab to be confronted by a rather ticked off Serena Chang.

"Wondered if you'd have the guts to show your face down here, Ellison."

"Nice to see you too, Serena."

"What in the hell did you think my weekend staff was going to find outside of QuestScape that didn't turn up in our original sweep? And why the hell didn't you or Connor stick around to brief them?"

Jim found himself backed into a corner, literally, by the head of the Forensic Team. "Did they find anything?"

Serena's eyes narrowed as she glared up at the man she'd managed to harangue, then she calmly reached over and snapped up a file from the top of the stack of paperwork she'd already signed off on. "Read for yourself." She slapped the thin file into his waiting hand, then barged past him to call out to one of her techs. "Amura! You're in charge. I'm finally going to lunch. I want the final report on the David case on my desk when I get back!"

Reading over the report in the depressingly thin file, Jim nearly jumped out of his skin when Serena slammed the door to the lab on her way out. "Damn. Nothing."

Keiko Amura approached Detective Ellison and overheard his comments. "Well, not exactly nothing, Detective. Just nothing that relates to your case." Jim pinned her with a glare. Raising a questioning eyebrow, she asked, "Unless you really wanted to know how many pinecones my team found?"

Jim smiled, appreciating the woman's attempt to lighten the mood. "No. Thanks, Amura. I really just came down here to see if you all were done with the property that was taken at the David murder scene?"

"Ah, yes. Peter told me you'd asked about that." She motioned for the detective to follow her, leading him deeper into the lab and back towards the lockers. "We cleared it last night after we got in from QuestScape. The only things we found were trace evidence, possibly from the clerks at the stores, and the bloodstains we found were consistent with the scene. The one shirt is a total loss, but the rest was remarkably clean." Finding the locker she was hunting for, Amura used her passkey to open the lock and she started handing out the parcels.

"Nothing of interest then?" Jim started combining the bags to make the load easier to handle and stopped when he found a long box. Carefully opening the lid, he found himself looking at an ornate dagger, some twelve inches in total length. He admired the workmanship.

"Just that. Beautiful, isn't it? And quite sharp." Amura reached past his hands and gently picked up the blade. "This is new work, but it reminds me of the tanto my grandfather brought back from Japan. The evidence report said the owner is a woman?" She handed the knife back.

Holding the tanto by the leather bound grip, Jim nodded. "Yeah. I didn't have a chance to ask her at the scene, but maybe Lee is a collector. This looks like a collector's piece." He found himself testing the balance of the knife, finding it perfectly adjusted, and enjoying the feel of holding a live blade.

"Maybe. But most collectors' knives are not sharpened to such a fine degree. Tested the blade, it's sharpened to within a micron -- sharp enough to cut through bone." She watched as Ellison placed the blade back in its padded box, and he guessed she had enjoyed holding the beautiful weapon as much as he had.

"You've got a point, Amura." Placing the box in one of the four bags now stacked at his feet, Jim stood up. "This everything?"

"Yes. I just need you to sign for it and it can be released to the owner." 

Returning to Major Crimes, Jim was a little surprised not to find Sandburg waiting there. Dropping the bags at his desk, he looked up to see the door to Simon's office closed, the blinds pulled down in the classic signal that told everyone not to bother the captain unless the world was coming to an end. Crossing over to Megan Connor's desk, he quietly asked the inspector, "Any idea where Sandburg is?"

"Nope. Maybe he went down to records. He promised to return a file I was looking at." The Australian kept her eyes glued to the paperwork in front of her as her pen scratched across the report she was working on, filling in the blanks at the top of the form that would signify where the evidence she was turning in was to be routed.

Wondering at the woman's cool tone, Jim shook his head and left her to her report. There was at least one other person he could ask. "Rhonda, maybe you can answer my question."

The captain's secretary looked up from her typing and smiled at him. "You're looking for your shadow, right?" The woman waited until he nodded. "I overheard him muttering about trying to catch someone down in Robbery. He left about ten minutes ago."

"Thanks, Rhonda." Jim returned to his desk and started to tackle the paperwork that was waiting for him. He had just finished finalizing his second report, working directly with the computer to input the report in the PD's database, when he realized forty minutes had passed and still no sign of his partner. Sliding his chair back, he heard the crinkling of plastic under the wheels, and recalled the other detail he needed to take care of.

Flipping open his notebook, he found the number to the Excelsior and made the call, only to discover both Lee Eolia and Jan-Michel LaFollet had checked out of their rooms around ten-thirty that morning. Putting on his best professional voice, he asked the desk clerk, "It's really important I speak with one of them. By chance did they leave a number where they could be reached?"

"Let me check, Detective. Ah, yes. It's a local number, and not one I recognize, so it's not one of the hotels in the city." The clerk rattled off the number, then apologized as he cut the conversation short -- explaining he was needed elsewhere -- and hung up.

Jim looked down at the number he wrote, his brow creasing in concern and puzzlement. "That's Dee's home number." Further speculation was halted as he caught sight of his missing partner stepping off the elevator. Whatever Blair had wanted to talk to someone in Robbery about apparently wasn't good. The expression on the kid's face was pensive and serious. "Hey, Chief. Someone finally do you a favor and steal the Volvo?"

Blair looked up at his friend's jest and shook his head. "Funny, man. Real funny. Even I know that such a crime, if it had happened --which it didn't--would be handled by the Auto Division, not Robbery." He nearly stumbled over the packages lying on the floor behind Jim's desk as he moved to place his backpack in its customary place. "What's all this?"

"The stuff I promised to return to Ms. Eolia today if I could. You have any idea why she and LaFollet would leave Pallas' home number as a way to get a message to them?" The kid had been acting skittish since before the QuestScape incident went down, and Jim found himself automatically tuning into his guide's heartbeat as he asked the question. It had started to race at the mention of Lee, but swiftly slowed back down to normal before the young man shrugged and dropped into a chair next to the desk.

"Yeah, I meant to tell you about that. Turned out Dee knew Eolia's husband, and thought she recalled meeting Lee in Greece a few years back, so we ducked over to the Excelsior Sunday morning and talked with her. Dee found out J-M and Lee were about to lose their room and board there at the hotel, so she offered to put them up at her place for a few days, which is really going to cramp our style, at least until they either find other accommodations or until Dee and I leave for Hawaii, which ever comes first." 

No matter how many times he'd seen Sandburg do it, the young man's lung capacity and ability to talk a mile a minute -- complete with rapid hand gestures -- still amazed him. Smiling, Jim couldn't resist teasing. "Well, you two rabbits need to cool your jets for a while anyway. But that will make returning this stuff to Lee much easier. If you'll help me by entering this evidence record, I'll finish up this other report and we can cut out of here for the day, Chief." He handed over a blank report tag and the bag containing the sabot slug Connor had found outside of QuestScape. Jim started to fill out the report tag on the other evidence he'd found in the pine tree: one strand of reddish brown hair, approximately twelve inches in length and wavy, to be checked and cross-matched, if possible, against the PD's growing file of DNA records.

They managed to leave the station's garage shortly after four-thirty PM only to get caught up in heavy traffic. Jim leaned over and clicked the truck's radio on, just in time to catch the weather advisory on the local news station ~… Advisory for King and Cascade Counties… The National Weather Service has issued a snow advisory for the entire Northwest corner of Washington State. Accumulations from 3-12 inches can be expected with the storm front that is forecast to move into the area sometime around midnight. State Police are advising motorists to avoid travel into the Cascade Mountain range…"~ 

"Well that explains the traffic. When are people going to learn to keep their pantries stocked?" Jim snapped off the radio, not wanting to hear any more. He concentrated on his driving. The roads were damp, there was a light mist falling, and the other drivers on the roads seemed to be in high gear.

"What did you say, Jim?"

Sparing a glance towards his roommate, the detective tapped his brakes as the car in front of him hurried to get through the yellow traffic light. The Ford coasted to a gentle stop. "Snow. Traffic. Idiots. Bad combination on damp roads."

Blair Sandburg looked at their surroundings. They'd been in the truck, heading home, for nearly five minutes, but were nowhere near close to where they normally would've been. "Don't forget, it's only a few more days until Christmas. Bound to be a lot of accidents tonight, people not paying attention." He waved his hand towards the traffic light, one eyebrow raised in askance. 

Looking up, just as the driver behind him laid on his horn, Jim realized the light had changed while he was trying to figure out where his partner's mind was. Easing back into the flow of traffic, he finally had to ask. "Chief, what's on your mind that has you so quiet?"

Chuckling, the student shook his head. "Man, most of the time you're begging me to be quiet, and the first time I am, something has to be wrong?"

"It is your usual pattern." He turned onto Prospect Avenue, only to wish he hadn't. The traffic was moving slower than it had been on the other streets, if that was possible. "Damn, this is going to take forever."

The silence filled the cab of the truck until Jim Ellison couldn't take it anymore. "All right, spill it, Chief. Something's on your mind and it's got you thinking. Maybe I can help?"

"Not this time, sorry, Jim."

"Why not?"

"Watcher business." Blair winced at the growl issuing from his partner. "Jim, I'd tell you if I could, but I can't. Not yet."

"Maybe later, then?" Jim sighed as he pulled into the tiny parking area nestled between 852 and 850 Prospect, noting the presence of the rented Lexus that was being used by Lee Eolia and her bodyguard, Jan-Michel LaFollet.

"Maybe. I'll have to clear it with Joe." Blair undid his seatbelt as Jim turned off the engine, grabbed up his backpack and reached for a couple of the bags belonging to Lee that Jim had brought with them. As he opened up the passenger door, the wind whipped the smaller man's jacket around him. "Damn, that storm front may get here sooner than expected. It's getting damn cold."

"Getting time for you to break out that silly hat of yours, pardner." Jim grabbed up the remaining bags and the two men raced into the building. Pulling the door shut behind him, the faint sound of metal clashing against metal caught Jim's attention. "Funny, I didn't see Connor's car--"

Spotting the attentive way the older man had turned his head, Blair asked, "What is it, Jim?"

"Sword work. Pretty furious pace too." 

The detective took off up the stairs, taking them two, three at a time, practically running. Blair had to race to catch up with him. 

The sound of someone getting kicked, in the stomach by the way the air gushed from their throat, greeted Jim as he approached the door leading to Diandra Pallas' loft. Without a second thought, he turned the knob and pushed open the door, just in time to see Dee kick a sword from her smaller opponent's hand, sending it flying. The opponent, long red hair spilling out from under protective headgear, did two back-flips in a row, avoiding the thrusting blade in Pallas' hand. Dropping the bags in his hands, he watched as the woman, Lee Eolia probably, fetched up against the far wall and grabbed a fighting staff from the racks there. She was turning back to face Dee when her legs went out from under her. Diandra didn't back off.

Without thinking, Jim moved in with all the speed and stealth his Ranger training gave him. Plowing into Diandra's side, knocking the sword from the woman's hand, he ended up on the floor with one knee braced against Dee's back as he pulled her left arm up behind her. 

"Get the fuck off of me!" The snarling voice coming from the woman beneath his knee sounded nothing like Diandra Pallas. Jim was off balance and it cost him. The Immortal wriggled, then with a wrenching movement dislocated her left shoulder as she rolled towards him, aiming a kick in the direction of his head. It connected, not solidly, but it knocked him off of her. Rolling to his feet, Jim found himself facing an enraged Champion.

* * *

Blair rushed into the loft just in time to hear Dee's fear filled snarl. Somehow she broke free of Jim's hold and kicked the sentinel in the head with her knee. Dropping his own bags on top of the ones by the door, he hurried to separate the two warriors. "Whoa! Break it off! Jim! Dee! Cool it!"

His words must not have registered in either set of ears, for he barely managed to dodge out of the way as Diandra rushed Jim in a move that surprised Blair, but not his roommate. Jim stepped aside to let Dee's movement carry her past him, then reached out and snagged her up in a hold that looked painful. His hands locked behind her head, forcing her to look down at her own chest and the floor. Thinking Dee might be better able to hear him if she saw him, Blair moved to stand in front of the dueling pair.

* * *

Panic set in as Diandra's fear of being confined spurred her into action. The Champion raised her hands above her head, biting back a scream as pain shot through her injured shoulder. Forcing air out of her chest, she slipped the hold. Dropping to her knees, she swung in blind rage at the presence behind her, her right forearm impacting solidly on a muscled thigh. Then someone else was touching her, daring to place a hand on her! Without stopping to listen to the words they were mumbling, she lurched forward and brought her head down, head butting her second attacker in the stomach. That one out of the way, she leapt to her feet, turning her attention back to the man who had pinned her. 

Her left arm hanging useless at her side, Diandra was forced to use her feet and her one remaining arm. A flying scissors kick, followed up with a simple right cross, laid her attacker on the mat. She snarled in rage as the one she'd turned her back on took advantage of her attack on the first and wrapped his arms around her, pinning her hands to her sides. The man on the floor rose to his feet, and came at her again. Using his body, she walked her feet up his torso, delivering a swift kick to his jaw before finally breaking the other's hold on her. As she fell to the floor, she reached behind her, grabbing a handful of dark curly hair. She yanked the second man down to the mat with her, plowing his face into the thick padding forcefully. 

"Diandra! Lady Dorian! Stop! They're your friends!" 

The words, screamed in ancient Greek, cut through the battle rage and fear fogging her mind. She clambered to her feet to see Eolia limping towards her, a bloodied Jan-Michel helping her. Blair was getting slowly to his knees, blood streaming from his nose. Swinging her gaze around, she located Ellison, flat on his back, a flaming red jaw telling her the story. She'd managed to hurt both men while lost in the dark fury of battle. "Oh, shit. Lobo! Lobo, I'm so sorry!" Tears filling her eyes, she moved to his side, her attention devoted to her lover.

Blair held a hand to his face as he waved off her apology. "I'll be fine. I don't think you broke it, angel." He allowed her to remove his hand from his nose as she looked over the damage she'd caused. "Ow! Stop for a second, will you? Tell me what happened."

"That's what I want to know, too. Hell of a kick you got there, Dee." Ellison groaned as he sat up on the mat.

Signaling for Jan to help her to Ellison's side, Lee spoke up. "It's my fault, Jim. Dee and I were sparring and got a little carried away." Loosening Jan's grip on her arm, she dropped to the mat near the detective, examining the swelling along his strong jaw. "Jan, see if you can locate a couple of ice packs, will you?"

"Sparring? Looked to me like Dee was trying to take your damn head off. Would've too, if I hadn't tackled her when I did." 

"Ice packs are in the freezer, LaFollet." Diandra called out to the searching man in the kitchen. Turning her blue gaze back to her lover's roommate, she said, "I wasn't going to do anything of the sort, Ellison. It was a full contact match, and if you had stopped to notice anything, you would've realized my blade was blunted and wouldn't have hurt Lee."

Jan-Michel returned with three ice packs, handing one to Diandra. "From what I saw, Lee here was doing pretty well, until her feet went out from under her." He crossed over to where his employer sat with Ellison and handed over the remaining ice packs. "What happened, Lee? And where did you learn those Xena-like moves? I never saw you use them against Azir."

"Old injury." Lee placed one of the cold packs on her right knee, handing the other to Jim, gesturing for him to use it on his jaw. "As for the moves, I was desperate, okay?"

"Lee was doing okay, but not as well as she could've. I was pushing her." Dee helped Blair to his feet as he held the icepack to his face with one hand.

Jim looked from one woman to the other. "Okay, but why were you pushing her?"

Diandra looked over at LaFollet, who nodded. "She wants to train LaFollet. I wanted to make sure she could."

"Train him? For what? He's a Watcher, not a damn Immortal." 

Blair moved in to Jim's side, dropping to the mat to get a closer look at the damage Diandra had done. "Actually, Jim, he is."

"What?"

"I'm immortal, Detective." Jan-Michel reached up and removed the bandage from his temple, revealing no healing wound, just perfectly unmarred flesh. "I died Friday night. Gunshot to the head, my first death."

Dropping the ice pack, Jim stared at the former Navy man. "And Azir el Sadih?"

"My husband was an Immortal, Jim. LaFollet was his Watcher." Diandra and Blair both scowled as Lee shook her head, indicating to them she wasn't ready to tell Jim about her own immortality. Instead, she asked, "Jan, do me a favor and grab my cane from my room?"

Dee could tell from his expression that Blair wasn't sure what Eolia was up to, but he held his mouth shut. Damn it, it was the perfect time for her to come clean with Jim, and yet she didn't. Diandra was puzzled by Eolia's words and her actions. Immortals healed quickly. There could be no 'old injury' to bother the woman, so why the lie? 

"Uh, Dee? Maybe we should get cleaned up?"

"Sure, Lobo." She helped him to his feet then glanced down at Jim. "I'm sorry, Ellison. You sure you're going to be okay?"

"Yeah, the ice and a little ibuprofen will do just fine, Dee. Thanks." With that reassurance, Diandra led Blair toward the stairs.

Jim got to his feet just as LaFollet returned to the room, a dark cane in his hand, which he handed to Lee. Ellison watched as the woman used the cane to rise to her feet, the action so smooth that it spoke of years of having to deal with a bum knee. "Well, there goes that idea I had."

Brushing a few loose strands of hair from her face, Eolia looked up at the detective. "What idea?"

"I was going to ask you out to dinner. But if you're hurting--"

"What? This? I'll live. And I'd love to go to dinner with you. But I don't have anything to wear."

Remembering the reason he'd planned on coming over to Pallas' apartment, Jim crossed the mat and picked up the bags he'd brought home with him from the precinct. "Maybe you have something in here that will suffice?" He handed the bags to her and LaFollet, hoping that since Lee had accepted his offer, the bodyguard would see fit to leave them alone.

"Maybe. Thanks, Jim." She went up on her toes and planted a kiss on the side of his face that wasn't bruising up. "What time?"

"Eight? That gives us all a chance to get cleaned up."

"Fine with me." Lee, using the cane in her left hand to support her weight, slowly hobbled from the room, heading towards the bedroom Diandra had turned over to her. 

"Ellison."

Jim turned to see LaFollet staring at him, not with the rage and hate he'd seen in the man's hazel eyes before, but with concern. "LaFollet."

"Don't hurt her." 

With those words, the man left the room, heading down the hall to the other spare bedroom Jim knew existed. The sound of a radio being turned up, in the bathroom according to the echoes he picked up, followed the sentinel as he made his way over to his own place. He had a date to get ready for with a woman who fascinated the heck out of him.

* * *

Diandra and Blair don't run the water for very long. I'm glad. I really want to rid myself of the dried sweat covering my body and slip into the new pants suit I'd bought Saturday, which Jim Ellison has just returned. 

I spend very little time under the hot water myself. I've always have been proficient and never wasted time on my toilet. Calling out to Jan-Michel that the bathroom is free for his use, I step into the bedroom, only to find my hostess waiting for me there, sitting on the bed. "Diandra--"

"Wait a minute, Lia. I have something to say to you and I need to hear the truth, okay?" 

I nod, accepting her gentle rebuke. 

"You are going to tell Jim that you're immortal, right?" Her blue eyes bore into me, reading my soul. I cannot lie to this woman, I never could.

"Yes, but not right away, Dee." I finish toweling my hair dry then reach for the comb on the table next to the bed to work the tangles out. She stops me.

"Let me. Sit down." She points to the floor in front of her, and I sit, scooting back against the bed and closing my eyes as she starts to work the comb through my hair. "I just wanted to make sure, Lia. Jim is Blair's best friend and, as such, I cannot allow you to hurt him, physically or emotionally. He's been through too much in his life as it is."

"I don't want to hurt him, Lady D. But I want to get to know him before telling him that I'm Immortal. You saw how he reacted earlier, can you see him just standing by while I take on a Challenger?"

She stops combing for a few seconds, then starts up again as she sighs. "Jim's a cop, Lia. He's sworn to protect others. But he also knows about us, and the Watchers, and I think once you explain to him what you are, he'll probably kick your ass back into shape so he knows you can take care of yourself."

I pull away, turning to face her from where I sit on the floor. "You were right, you know that, Diandra?"

"About what?"

"Azir coddled me. The head I took last year? I was lucky. The man was a newborn who got overconfident in his new found skills with steel." I drop my eyes, "I was only able to take him because I was quicker on my feet."

She smiles at me. "Well, at least you're still honest with me. And there is a chance that if you hadn't slipped on the flooring, you would've saved yourself. But you still need to get back into top form if you're going to seriously train J-M."

"I know. Will you help me?"

"Of course. Now get back here so I can work on that hair of yours." After a while, once my old friend is done getting the tangles out my unruly mass of hair, she plaits it in a braid. That done, she turns me to look at her. "Now, why the story about a bad knee earlier?"

I smile as I get up off the floor, no injury to hinder my movements, and reach for the cane I used earlier. "Can you think of a better way to get a sword past a cop?" I pull the top end of the cane, exposing the blade within. "Azir had this made for me, years ago, while we were stationed in Saigon."

I hand the blade into her waiting hands, watching as she tests the balance of the weapon, and the feel of the hard wood scabbard. "Sweet. It's perfect for you, Lia. And the scabbard, it's sturdy enough to use as a weapon as well?" She hands the blade back to me.

"Yes. Azir had it made of ironwood."

"Okay, so you use it tonight as a cane, then what?"

"I don't know. I want to see how the date with Jim goes before I decide when to tell him the truth." I place the sword cane, a Japanese Zatoichi actually, on the bed as I reach for the outfit I've chosen to wear.

I hear her sigh again as she gets to her feet. "Fine. But, Lia, I'm going to put a time restraint on your telling Jim you're Immortal."

"Why?" I ask as I slip into the white silk shirt.

"Because, Blair and I are planning to leave on a vacation this Friday and I feel you should tell Jim before we leave." She crosses the floor and pulls open the door, stopping to look over her shoulder at me. "That way, I can handle any questions he might have before we go. Now, finish getting dressed, you wouldn't want to keep the man waiting would you?"

* * *

Blair stood at the doors leading to the balcony, watching as the snow flurries started. "Jim, you sure you and Lee going out in this weather is such a good idea?"

"We'll be fine, Chief." Jim's voice floated down from the loft's upstairs bedroom. "I'm just taking her to the Dragon Pearl, not up the coast to Seacouver." The detective started to come down the stairs, fiddling with his tie as he did. "Damn, I'm all thumbs tonight. Can you help me with this damn thing?"

Turning to help his friend, Blair was shocked to see Jim dressed in his best suit and trying like crazy to get the tie unknotted. "Whoa! Don't you look nice? What's with the suit?"

The suit was brand new, dark gray wool, blended with silk and tailored in such a way as to hide the fact he was carrying a gun. The shirt was light blue and the tie was one Brian Rafe had helped him choose: one of the last Rush Limbaugh 'No Boundaries' ties ever made. It was silk, and had not only blues and greens, but black, gold and orange as well. Very pleasing to the eye. 

"I felt like it. Now, help, please?" Jim held the tie out to his friend, begging the younger man for assistance. 

"Sure. But let's do this over by the stairs. You know I can't do this without being behind you." Within a few moments, Blair had the tie done and was admiring his handiwork. "That'll do. So tell me the real reason for this outfit?"

His dress shoes clicking across the wood floor as he made his way into the kitchen, where he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, Jim tried to tell him. "Chief, have you ever felt that, maybe, love at first sight was real? Not lust, but real love?"

"You're joking, right?" Blair saw the pain in the sentinel's eyes and realized he said the wrong thing. "Oh, man, you're not. Lee?"

Opening the bottle of water and taking a healthy swallow, Jim nodded. "I think so. And no, before you ask, it's not a pheromone thing either. At least I don't think so."

"Man, this is so not you, Jim. I'm the one who's supposed to be a table-leg chaser, not you." Walking into the kitchen to stand beside his roommate, Blair took the bottle from Jim's hand and placed it on the counter. "Just be careful, okay? I'd hate to see you get hurt."

Jim scowled at his partner. "Sandburg, that is the third or forth time you've told me that. Are you holding out on me? Is there something about Lee you know that maybe I should know?"

"I'm just worried, that's all. I mean, she does have someone out there," he waved his hand towards the balcony and the cityscape beyond, "who has tried twice to kill her. I just want to make sure you're on top of your game, ya' know?" 

Jim smiled as he delivered a soft cuff to the back of his guide's head. "I'll be extra careful, Mom."

"I'll 'Mom' you--" Blair managed to get a light punch landed on the sentinel's arm, then he looked up into Jim's face, noting the bruising that was getting quite colorful along the jaw. "You really ought to let Dee take care of that for you."

"No, I don't think Lee would understand."

"Lee knows. When Dee and I talked with her on Sunday, she asked why you had called out to Dee in the alley, so we had to explain." The single knock on the loft's door was the only warning either man got before the object of their discussion walked into the room.

"Lobo's right, Jim. Lee knows about my ability to heal, and I think it's only fair I heal what I did to you." Diandra approached her fellow sentinel, obviously having heard everything he and Blair had talked about. "Besides, a suit that nice really clashes something fierce with the bruising."

"Fine. Looks like I'm out numbered anyway." Blair watched as Jim gave in as gracefully as he could, allowing the woman to lead him over to the dining table and sit him down so she could easily reach his sore jaw. Reaching out, he laid a hand on Jim's shoulder to anchor him, to keep his partner from zoning on the peculiar sensation he knew Dee's gift caused.

"Damn, I do good work." Dee stepped back away from him, admiring her work. There was absolutely no trace of the bruise or swelling left on Jim's face. "Lee's almost ready, just give her a few more minutes and then go on over."

"Thanks, Dee." Jim stood back up and walked over to the table by the door, picking up his keys and his handgun, slipping the latter into its holster under the suit coat at the small of his back. Then, as if he'd remembered something, he trotted back up to his room. By the time he came back downstairs, long black overcoat on his arm, Dee and Blair were cuddling next to each other on the couch. "You two rabbits behave-- at your place tonight, Dee."

Looking over her shoulder at the dapper detective, Diandra stuck her tongue out at him. "Party-pooper."

Closing the door to his loft behind him, Jim took the few steps needed to cross the hall to Diandra's place, only to stop, suddenly a little nervous about the whole thing. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he knocked. The door was opened by Lee herself. 

The woman was dressed in a teal green pants suit with a blinding white shirt underneath the jacket, her hand resting on the cane she'd used earlier. "Jim, my, you do clean up well." She stepped back to let him inside.

"I tried." He closed the door behind him as he stepped into the room. "You look very nice as well, Lee."

"Thanks. I just need to grab my coat and we can go." 

He watched as she used the cane to steady her gait as she disappeared down the hall to her room. LaFollet came out before she did. "It's against my better judgment, but Lee convinced me to leave the two of you by yourselves tonight. Otherwise, I'd be right on your tails."

"I'll take care of her, LaFollet. You have my word on that."

"That's all I'm asking, Ellison." Jan-Michel turned around when he heard the tap of Eolia's cane on the floor of the hallway. Moving over to her side, he silently helped her into her coat, then disappeared down the hall to his room.

"He's not happy with me, but he won't follow us. Not tonight anyway." Lee smiled up at Jim, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I'm ready if you are."

The walk down the stairs to his truck was silent and for the first time in a long while, Jim regretted having a classic set of wheels as he handed Lee into the passenger seat. Her words to him on that matter, as he climbed into the driver's seat, made him chuckle in relief.

"This is such a beautiful truck, Jim. A 69, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is." He cranked the engine over and backed out of the parking space.

"That was back when Detroit still knew how to make a car. You ever think of tricking this baby out?"

The talk on the drive to the Dragon Pearl was about classic cars and trucks and the show circuit for such things. Jim found out that while Lee enjoyed classic trucks, she really loved the 1955 Thunderbird and was actually looking for one to restore.

Mr. Singh, the owner of the Dragon Pearl, sat them at his best table, situated close to the indoor waterfall and Koi pool and, per Jim's request over the phone earlier, had a bottle of plum wine ready for them. He also refused to give either of them a menu, just asking Lee about any food allergies, reassuring the detective that he and his chef knew of his, and then disappearing into the kitchen. A waiter came over and opened the wine, quietly pouring a small amount for Jim to taste. At his approving nod, he poured a glass for Lee, then topped off Jim's glass and then he, too, disappeared.


	6. Chapter 6

Dee leaned closer to Blair on the sofa, her fingertips tracing across his cheek and over his nose lightly. Catching her hand in his, Blair pulled it gently away. "My nose is fine, Dee. It was an accident."

Biting her lip, she shook her head, and he could see the tears forming in her eyes again. "I could have killed you, I could have killed Jim."

He pulled her closer, cradling her against his chest. "No. Never. I refuse to believe that. It was an accident. I've taken worse punches sparring with you."

"But I lost it. I was completely out of control. That hasn't happened to me in years--"

"No, angel. You were terrified. You believed you were fighting for your life." He ran his fingers through her hair. 

"How…how did you know that?" She straightened up to look him in the eye.

Blair tenderly wiped the tears from her cheeks. "I felt it, in here." He laid his hand over his heart. "You were so scared, like the other night, when you had that nightmare about being buried under the temple." He rubbed her back as she leaned up against him again. "You're claustrophobic, aren't you?" He felt her nod against his shoulder.

"I guess you could call it that. I have a fear of being buried alive, and when there's anything on top of me, making me feel like I can't escape, I panic. And because of that, you got hurt." 

Pressing a kiss to her forehead, Blair said, "It's okay, baby. I'm okay, Jim's okay. You need to forgive yourself." 

"I'll try," she whispered.

Giving her a quick hug, Blair got up from the couch then extended his hand to her. "Come on, I know what we need."

Taking his hand, Dee got to her feet. "What's that?"

He gave her a grin. "Some food, some hot water, and lots of bubbles. Follow me." Gripping her hand firmly, he led her out of Jim's loft and across the hallway.

* * *

Water sloshed against the sides of the deep bathtub as Blair got in behind his lover. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he settled himself against the end of the tub, then pulled her back to rest against his chest. She leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed. "See," he told her, "isn't this better?"

"Mmm, much," Dee answered him. She laid her arm along his, lacing their fingers together. There was silence between them for several long minutes, as they both enjoyed the hot water's effect on their tired bodies. Finally, she spoke, her words soft and a little hesitant. "I love you so much, Lobo. I don't ever want to hurt you."

Blair could feel her trembling and he hugged her closer, resting his cheek against her hair. "I know, angel, I know. I feel the same way." He held her tenderly, knowing she needed this, knowing she needed him. And that was an interesting feeling, being needed. It wasn't one he'd ever been really familiar with, always being somewhat of a loner in his life. Oh, Blair had always had plenty of friends, but nothing ever deep, or lasting, until he had met Jim. Through his relationship with Jim, he'd met Dee, and found something he hadn't even known he was looking for--love. And though he knew Jim needed him, that together they made something much bigger than the two of them apart, he also knew the sentinel's background wouldn't allow him to show that need, not this openly. Dee had no such qualms. She was as open and vulnerable in his arms at that moment as she'd ever been. Blair felt incredibly honored by her trust. 

"Did Jim and Lee get off on their date okay?" Her question startled him out of his ruminating.

"Yeah, yeah. Jim's got it bad for her. He was asking me if I believed in love at first sight."

"Oh, damn it," Dee said softly. "If I'd known that, I wouldn't have given Lia a time limit. I would have made her tell him tonight, or I would've told him myself she's immortal."

"Time limit? What are you talking about?" Blair asked, suddenly a little worried.

She trailed her fingers through the bubbles on top of the water. "I had a talk with her before she left. I told her she had until Friday to tell him, if she's serious about him."

"And?"

"She said she wanted to get to know him a little better first, and I agreed with that. But if he's already in love with her…"

"I don't know, Dee. Jim might have been just thinking out loud. Maybe he wants to be, but isn't sure. I mean, he hardly knows her either." He tightened his arms around her. "Man, I'm so glad we're past that point. I can remember being so scared when I realized I was in love with you."

"Scared?"

"Weren't you? I was so afraid I'd walk out of the bathroom at Joe's, and you would see how I felt written on my face, and--I don't know, laugh at me or something." 

"That's when you knew? The first time we went to Joe's?" 

"Yeah. It kind of snuck up on me. I mean, I knew I wanted you from the moment we met, but I was so pitiful, making all those passes at you, and you just politely ignoring them, like you didn't know what I was talking about."

She smiled. "Oh, I knew. The time just wasn't right. You want to know when I knew I was in love with you?"

"Sure."

"When you showed up on my doorstep with breakfast the morning after we'd met. You were so concerned and so sincere, and a little bit nervous. You were just so--real. I needed that in my life. And I knew I could trust you with my secrets when the time came for us to take that next step beyond friendship."

"I knew I could trust you, too." Thinking of trust turned his thoughts back to the talk he'd had with Mark Haverill that afternoon. Involuntarily, his grip on her tightened. 

She moved in the water, tilting her head back to look up at him. "Lobo, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, forget it. I don't want to spoil the mood."

"I'm not going to let you just drop it. You know you can talk to me about anything." Her hand came up to stroke his cheek, and she kissed the line of his jaw softly.

He shivered, amazed at how loved those simple gestures made him feel. And she was right, he could talk to her about anything, but…"I don't know. It just feels kind of weird talking 'shop' in the bathtub." He felt her fingers tickling along his ribs and he squirmed, splashing water and suds over the side.

Rising out of the water, Dee turned around and sat down again, straddling his legs so that she was facing him. "And anywhere else isn't going to be weird? You have my total attention now, so spill it." 

Blair smiled at her. "Okay. I went to the station today and was going over the files from Friday and Saturday's incidents involving Eolia. I found a note Megan had stuck to one of the files, about how Lee's description of her attacker in the alley matched the general description of Brad Ventriss."

"That kid you were telling me about? The one who had you beat up? The one who's dead?"

Nodding, he continued. "That's the one. I thought Megan might be on to something, so I went digging. I found there was a mix-up at the morgue while Brad's body was there. They had one go missing. So just for kicks, I sent a copy of Brad's picture to Joe. He called me back to tell me the photo fits the description of a new Immortal who was last seen hanging with an older Immortal, one Reggie Kinney. Kinney lost his head a couple months ago, and the general consensus is this new Immortal took it. So Joe tells me where to find Kinney's Watcher. Guess where he is?"

Dee shrugged. "I don't know. But I think I can guess where this is heading."

"He's working for Cascade PD, in robbery. But before that, he was a guard at the city/county detention center, where Reggie Kinney was an inmate until his release four months ago, right after Brad's death."

"So did Kinney's Watcher confirm that Brad was the guy with Kinney?"

"Well, yes and no. Haverill, that's Kinney's Watcher, didn't work Brad's cell block, so he never met him up close. But he said there's a resemblance between the photo of Brad I showed him, and the guy Kinney was training. But he never really got a close look at him either. Since Kinney knew him from prison, Haverill had to keep his surveillance long distance once Kinney was out. But I'm wondering if Brad and this new Immortal are one and the same. Which answers a lot of questions, but also raises new ones." He paused, waiting for Dee to catch up with his train of thought.

"You're thinking Brad was the thief at QuestScape, and the shooter in the alley?" At his nod, Dee swore. "Damn it! Then that means Eolia lied to me." Getting to her feet, she climbed out of the tub, snagging a towel angrily off the rack.

Pulling the drain, Blair followed her. "You've got that look in your eye. What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking Lia is playing games with me, and I don't like it." She slipped into her robe and walked into the bedroom.

Hastily wrapping a towel around his waist, Blair followed her. "You don't think Jim's in any danger, do you?"

Dee was pacing back and forth across the floor, chewing on her thumb. "Hmm, Jim? No, I don't think so. At least not from Lia. Whoever's after her, mortal or immortal, is the person we should be worried about." Sighing, she flopped down on the bed. "But we don't know anything for certain. Maybe Lia's telling the truth; maybe this guy is mortal. What we need is to show her the photo of Brad, see if she thinks it's him."

Blair sat down next to her. "We'd have to do it by the book. Stick his photo in with a bunch of similar ones and see if she can pick him out. I can pick up some other mug shots at the station tomorrow, or have Jim do it." 

"Okay, sounds like a plan. Now I seem to remember you mentioning something about food earlier?"

He dove for the telephone. "I'm on it. You want Chinese or Italian? Or we could be really decadent and make someone from that new French place deliver in this weather."

She grinned at him, reaching for his towel. "Make it French, and promise them a big tip if it's here within the hour. That should be long enough for what I have in mind."

* * *

The staff of the Dragon Pearl had outdone itself on their behalf. The chef had prepared a special Pu-Pu platter for an appetizer, then the main course had arrived. The first dish was a mild, meatless, Mou-Shou Tofu platter, which was immediately followed by the restaurant's infamous "Dragon's Crown" -- a mix of chicken, beef, pork and seafood in a black bean and garlic sauce. Through out the dinner, the couple seated next to the waterfall kept their conversation on safe subjects: politics, weather and their jobs.

Jim settled back in his chair, a cup of hot jasmine tea in his hands, as he watched Lee. She had finished up her meal, allowing the waiter to clear the table, and surprised him by thanking the man for his services in his own language. Waiting until the happy young man had left, Jim smiled at his date. "You speak Vietnamese?"

Picking up her own cup of tea, she nodded. "A little. Just enough to be polite."

"How many other talents do you have hidden in that head of yours?" His probing question was met with a smile and a tinkling of laughter. "And where did you learn to move like you did earlier?"

"Earlier? Oh, the gymnastics." Lee set her cup down on the table and leaned forward, her elbows braced on the arms of her chair. "I trained as a gymnast when I was younger, even had my hopes set on the Nationals, until a lousy dismount from the uneven bars blew my knee out and ruined that for me."

"Bad break. Does it bother you very often?" 

"Only when I forget and try to relive the glory that was once my dream."

A stench suddenly assaulted Jim's nose. The rank odor of overindulgence in alcohol caused Jim to look away from his date and scan the restaurant. Lee, seeing his movements as someone who suspected he was being watched, did her own covert surveillance. But neither one caught sight of their target until the man was practically looming over their table.

"Well, well. Isn't this just too special for words? Nice to see my tax dollars at work, Detective Ellison. Is this some new interrogation technique that the PD is using?" 

Jim stood up, carefully placing the teacup on the table, and turned to face the clearly drunken man. "Mr. Ventriss, nice to see you again."

"Bullshit. Has there been anything done about the break-in at my company, or are you just schmoozing with the lead suspect for the hell of it?"

"Ms. Eolia is not a suspect, Ventriss. She's been cleared of that."

Lee moved away from the man as he leaned over her, his smile gloating. "How very nice. Looks like you might actually get away with it, my dear. All you have to do now is fuck the detective here and you're home free."

No one could say, later, who moved first against Mr. Norman Ventriss, Jim Ellison, his lady friend or the man's own bodyguard. However it happened, the man ended up on the floor, only to be helped to his feet by the detective and his driver. 

Jim moved aside as Lee moved in, leaning on her cane, confronting the man who had slandered her in public. "Mr. Ventriss, any and all future contracts between my company and yours are now terminated. And just to make sure that you know just who in the hell it is you're dealing with, I'll be calling the DOD with my suspicions that they look deeper into your contracts with them as well."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Try me." Lee's voice was as cold as liquid nitrogen.

Mr. Singh hurried forward and broke into the group. "You leave now, Mr. V. Don't come back. You no longer welcome here. Go. GO!" Four of his waiters stepped forward as well and they, plus Mr. Ventriss' driver/bodyguard, escorted the man out of the restaurant. "Damn drunken fool. I apologize for his actions and his words, Mr. Ellison. I neglected to tell my bartender to keep tabs on him, to limit his intake." The Asian man's broken English dropped in favor of the more educated words now coming from his mouth.

"Mr. Singh, no need to apologize for him." Jim moved to Lee's side and handed her back into her chair. "Lee? You okay?" He'd felt her arm trembling when he'd touched her.

"I'll be fine." She grabbed up her tea and swallowed the last of it while muttering under her breath, "See if he can get any security company to work for him after this."

"Let it go, Lee. Vendettas have a nasty way of coming back to haunt you," Jim admonished her as he resumed his seat across the table.

"This isn't about vendettas, Jim." She looked up at Mr. Singh, who nodded his understanding and left them alone. "Jan-Michel was able to dig up some interesting information about QuestScape from his sources." She told him about the findings that her bodyguard had managed to dig up, omitting only that his contact was also a Watcher. 

"Why didn't you tell me about this sooner?"

"I didn't even find out myself until this morning. Jan was a little pissed off, in more ways than one, Saturday night. And Sunday we had too much company and I had too much to think about to recall that he'd gone in search of the information."

Leaning back into his chair again, hands steepled in front of him, Jim digested everything he'd been told. "One question, Lee. When were you going to tell me about this?"

"Today. Tonight, in fact. I just didn't think you'd want to hear it in such a public setting." The sensual look in her eyes was almost a challenge.

Nodding his acceptance of the woman's unspoken suggestion, Jim caught the attention of their waiter and requested their check. The total was ridiculously low and after haggling about it with Mr. Singh, he paid the bill and added a very generous tip. Helping Lee into her coat, then slipping into his, Jim escorted her out of the restaurant and into a true snowfall.

"Oh, it's beautiful!" Lee exclaimed as she took in the sight of the city slowly being shrouded in a blanket of snow.

"It can be. Unless you're a cop, then all you see is the potential traffic nightmares." They walked to his truck in silence, Lee leaning on Jim's arm instead of using her cane. The drive back to their homes took a little longer as Jim was overcautious about his driving on the slick pavement. 

When Jim turned into the small parking lot by his building, he noted that the Lexus was gone and wondered if LaFollet had lied to Lee. But he shook his head as he realized that he'd not seen anything out of the ordinary while at the Dragon Pearl. 

"I wonder where Jan-Michel got off to?" 

Jim snorted in laughter. "Maybe he decided that sticking around Dee's place wasn't a good idea."

"Oh?" Lee looked at him, then it dawned on her. "Oh! I asked her if we were imposing!"

Glancing at his watch as he climbed out of the truck, coming around the back to assist her out, he said, "Maybe we should give the two lovebirds a little more quality time together? I think I have a nice bottle of Eiswine that we can share."

"Eiswine? Jim, no that's too much."

"No it's not. I raided my father's wine cellar a few years ago, have had the bottle ever since." Seeing her discomfort as he held the door open for her, he made another offer. "Or I could just let you choose?"

"I'd like that, thank you." Lee looked up the stairs in front of her and sighed as she reached for the handrail.

Jim followed her up two flights of stairs, then gave in to his impulsiveness. Coming up behind her before she could start up the last flight of steps, he tapped her on the shoulder and then swept her up into his arms. "Much easier on your knee this way."

Choking back a giggle, she nodded as she brought her arms up around his neck. When they came to the door of his apartment he slowly lowered her to the floor. Unlocking the door, he preceded her into the darkened loft and flipped on the lights. Once she was inside, and he'd helped her out of her coat, he gestured her over to the kitchen. "Wine is in the lower cabinet by the fridge. See if there's something in there that strikes your fancy."

Jim climbed the stairs to his room, shedding his coat and jacket on the way, dropping both to the bed. He slipped off his belt and slid the holster and gun off. Returning down stairs, he found Lee still in the kitchen, looking over two rather dusty bottles on the counter. "Did you find something?"

Smiling up at the detective as he came around the island, she gestured to the bottles. "Maybe. Which one do you like?"

Glancing over the labels he realized she had managed to find his secret stash. "Either one is good. I'll get a couple of glasses while you decide." Reaching up into another cabinet, he pulled down two glasses and turned back to see Lee holding up the bottle of Korbel Brandy. He snickered. "Good thing I picked the snifters."

"I saw you reach for them, and I happen to like brandy."

"Fine, go make yourself comfortable and I'll bring the glasses out." After pouring the liquor into the glasses, he looked around for the remote control to the stereo and found it, by the stove of all places. Aiming the remote, he tapped on the play button and the sounds of classical guitar wafted through the loft. Walking over to where Lee sat on the couch, he handed her a glass then sat beside her. "I hope you don't mind the music?"

Placing the glass on the low table, Lee shrugged out of her suit jacket, then picked up the snifter again. "Mind? No, I like all of Carlos' work." She carefully sipped at the amber liquid, then grew concerned when Jim got up from beside her and crossed over to the fireplace. "Jim?"

"It's bound to get a little chilly in here. I thought I'd start a fire." Placing a few logs in the fireplace, Jim lit up a starter log and then returned to Lee's side. "There, that should help keep the chill at bay."

"Thanks, but I was doing just fine. Really." 

Picking up his own brandy, Jim settled back into the cushions of the sofa. "Yeah, well maybe I just like the idea of sitting here with you, the snow falling outside and us enjoying the warmth of a fire."

Lee blushed a little. "I didn't realize you were a romantic, Jim."

"It 's been known to happen from time to time." He took a careful sip of his own brandy, then turned to face her, one knee coming up to rest beside her thigh. "So, tell me. Do you ever take a break from your job at WindHawk?"

"Occasionally, why do you ask?"

Gently reaching out to tuck a loose tendril of dark red hair behind her ear, he said, "I guess I'm kind of hoping you could stick around here for a while."

"Jim," Lee turned to face him, her own leg coming up to rest next to his on the couch, "are you sure? I mean, you know nothing about me."

"I want to learn." Leaning in towards her, placing his hand on her leg, he gave her a kiss, one that rapidly changed from 'I like you' to 'I want you,' in the space of a few rapid heartbeats. The strains of Santana's _Black Magic Woman_ started to fill the loft, and Jim found himself falling into a sensory overload as he tasted her lips, then her tongue, savoring the nearly overpowering taste of the brandy and the subtle aftertaste of the plum wine she'd drank earlier. There was more. Her heartbeat had quickened and he could feel it pulsating through her body where his touched hers. He inhaled the scent rising off of her hair as he gently held her close, the scent of wildflowers.

The smell took him back in time to Saturday night, even as his hands continued to explore the soft, yet firmly developed body now nearly trapped beneath his on the couch. Then the voice in his head, one that sounded a lot like his guide, crashed into his awareness. _"… you know you and redheads don't mix. Besides, Lee just lost her husband. She's probably pretty fragile right now. I…I just don't want you getting hurt."_ Maybe Blair was right. This was moving rapidly in a direction that he wasn't sure he was ready to go. He wasn't even sure Lee was ready to go there herself. They needed to talk, to get to know one another.

Feeling her hands starting to work on his shirt, unbuttoning it with a subtle skill, Jim pulled back, taking her hands in his, effectively stopping her. "Maybe we're going too fast." The crushed look that crossed her face right before she stood up and grabbed her jacket surprised him. "Lee?"

"I should go." Shrugging into the teal jacket, she turned back to face him. "Maybe you're right, maybe we are moving too fast, but I thought you wanted me." She stopped to softly curse herself as she wiped tears from her eyes. "Damn, I will not cry over this."

Moving to stand next to her, Jim tried to reach out to her, only to have her brush away the contact. "Lee, I do want you, but not like this. Not some one night stand." He didn't flinch as she turned her amber brown gaze to him, meeting his eyes. "Please Lee, don't go away like this." Holding out his arms, he smiled and invited her back into his embrace.

Lee was just starting to move back into opened arms when the door to the loft burst open and a half dressed, passion-mussed Blair Sandburg whirled into the apartment. "Whoa! I didn't think you were home yet, Jim!"

"Oh, Gods! I'm leaving." The words came out in an oddly strangulated tone, as if she was holding back more tears. Lee barely used her cane as she stalked out of the apartment, grabbing her coat from the rack behind the door and crossing the hall to enter Diandra's place.

Jim shook his head, wondering what in the hell had gone wrong, his temper starting to fray. "What are you doing here, Chief?"

"Uh, just came over to grab some, uh, massage oil for Dee." His intelligent gaze took in the scene, the fireplace, the deserted brandy glasses, the way Eolia had stormed out. "Oh, I interrupted something, didn't I?" 

"No shit, Sherlock." Moving towards the stairs to his room, Jim snarled back down to his roommate, "Make sure you lock up on your way out. I'm going to bed."

* * *

Gods above! What a mess my night out with Jim has turned into! I dash across the hall, thankful that Sandburg has left the door to Diandra's place ajar, and rush into my room. Before I slam the door shut, I stop to gather my breath and softly close the heavy door. Throwing my jackets to the bed, along with my zatoichi, I collapse onto the mattress. 

I don't want to overhear, or possibly intrude on, Dee's life with her lover so I reach over to the nightstand and grab up my Walkman radio. After scanning through the local stations, I find one that is playing older rock and roll and turn up the volume as I slip the earbuds in and start to undress.

Just as 'Riders on the Storm' starts to play, I'm crawling under the blankets. Too many years working undercover in America's counter-culture exposed me to more music than I appreciated at the time, but when I'm feeling particularly low I find the older tunes soothing. I close my eyes and allow my mind to drift with the music and words saturating my ears.

It has been years since I heard the next song the DJ puts on the airwaves, but the words strike me like a physical blow…

_Well we all have a face, that we hide away forever,_

_And we take them out and show ourselves,_

_When everyone has gone._

_Some are satin, some are steel, some are silk and some are leather,_

_They're the faces of the stranger_

_But we love to try them on._

_Well we all fall in love, but we disregard the danger,_

_Though we share many secrets, there are some we never tell_

_Why were you so surprised, that you never saw the stranger?_

_Did you ever let your lover see the stranger in yourself?_

Goddess! I know this song! Damn, the singer could have written this about me. I've hidden my true self from others for so long that I sometimes forget who I am, getting lost in the roles that I've been assigned to play over the centuries. Especially the roles the Company threw my husband and I into. The feel of moisture on my face brings my hand out from under the covers, wiping away the tears that have started to fall as Billy Joel continues to sing. 

_Don't be afraid to try again, everyone goes south, every now and then._

_You've done it, why can't someone else?_

_You should know by now, you've been there yourself._

_You may never understand, how the stranger is inspired,_

_But he isn't always evil and he isn't always wrong._

_Though you drown in good intentions, you will never quench the fire,_

_You'll give into your desire, when the stranger comes along._

Damn it. Diandra's right. If I even think things between Jim and I are going to go beyond mere friendship, and I'll admit that I want that, then I need to tell him who and what I am. He knows about us, about Watchers, and if he knows that much, then maybe he'll understand the Game. Yes, I have to tell him. Tomorrow. When I'm sure I'm in control of myself. And after I pay a certain Cascade businessman a little visit.

Rolling over, placing my face against the soft pillow, my mind starts to race, going over possible strategies, disregarding some, and keeping others to examine closer. Glancing at the travel clock, it's just after eleven PM. I hope Jan-Michel gets back in time for me to go for a little trip. No one, absolutely no one, has ever lived for long, unharmed, after speaking to me the way that oafish bastard did.

Tuning the radio to another station, one playing strictly instrumental music, I drift off to sleep. The soothing strains of Mannheim Steamroller's Christmas music take me to a place where there are no troubles, where I can be my true self.

* * *

Blair stood in the entryway to the loft, watching his friend climb the stairs to his room. Shit. He heard the door across the hallway close. Damn. He hadn't meant to mess things up for Jim. Blair walked into his room and searched through the drawers in his dresser until he came up with a nearly empty bottle of massage oil. Well, that was a waste of time. Sighing, he dropped the bottle in the trashcan and headed back across the hall to Dee's apartment. He paused at the bottom of the staircase, listening for any sounds from Eolia's room. Nothing. Shrugging, he started up the stairs. He would apologize in the morning.

Blair entered Dee's bedroom to find her sprawled across the bed on her stomach, fast asleep. "I can't win tonight, can I?" he asked the air. Crossing to the bed, he pulled the covers up over his lover, and kissed her temple gently. "Sorry, angel. Glad you can sleep; you've had a hard day." 

Spying his backpack on the floor by the desk, he walked over to it, and took out his laptop. As long as he wasn't sleepy, he might as well do something he'd been meaning to do ever since he first met Lee Eolia--go through her chronicles. 

Settling himself on the bed, propping a couple pillows behind his back, careful not to wake Dee, Blair hooked up to the phone line and dialed up Watcher Central. Typing in his password and accessing the archives, he began to read. The more he read, especially about the past fifty years of Eolia and Azir's lives, the more disturbed he became. He'd guessed from the hints she'd let drop that they had been spies, but he hadn't realized they had worked for the CIA. The mere mention of the CIA brought up memories of Lee Brackett and the hell he had put Jim through.

Finishing the last of the file, Blair felt sickened. Some of the things mentioned in there he couldn't imagine doing, even if it had been in service to his country. They had been experts in subterfuge and the double cross, thinking nothing of sleeping with the enemy if it would get them what they were after. Lying must come as easily to Eolia as breathing. Blair had to consider every word issuing from her lips as suspect. 

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, then took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. God, what if this whole thing was a setup? What if, from the very beginning, she had been setting them up? What if this wasn't about her struggling to carry on after her husband's death, or the robbery at QuestScape? What if it was about Jim? About getting close to him and discovering his sentinel abilities? He took a few deep breaths, willing his racing heart to slow. Panicking wasn't going to help anything. He could deal with this. If anything, he had an edge she didn't. He had CIA contacts she didn't know about. 

With a few keystrokes, Blair exited the Watcher site and flipped on Instant Messenger. As he read the list of friends online, he looked up at the heavens and gave thanks. Jack was online. Composing a message, he sent it into cyberspace. Jack Kelso replied quickly, and Blair asked his questions. Jack promised to get back with him by email within the hour. Thanking him, Blair headed back to the Watcher's site, and began going through some of the cross-references to Eolia's file. He noted the name of the man who had been Lee's Watcher when she had been with the CIA and, looking him up on the Watcher operative list, he sent off an email. Maybe this Huddleston guy could shed some light on what she'd been up to then.

When his email chime went off, Blair looked at the time at the bottom of his computer screen. Man, Jack was fast. Only 45 minutes had gone by. Opening up his email, Blair discovered that what his friend had turned up wasn't much. Most of the files regarding Leandra Evans and Emil Saunders were sealed. What he could tell him was that the two had left the Company under something of a cloud in the late eighties, about the same time as Lee Brackett had gone rogue. This, Jack pointed out, didn't mean that the husband-wife team had ever worked with Brackett, but the dates they were stationed in South America matched up.

Damn it. This was getting him nowhere. All he was doing was scaring himself. He had just hit shut down when Dee stirred beside him.

"Mmm…hey, Lobo, what's the matter?"

Closing his lpaptop, Blair set it on the floor then laid his glasses on the bedside table. "Nothing, angel." He slid down in the bed until he was lying flat on the mattress. He felt her arm go around his waist, and she snuggled up to his side, kissing his shoulder.

"Something has you all tied up in knots. My stomach feels like a pretzel." She leaned in closer, her lips nibbling at his earlobe. "Talk to me, baby."

Rolling onto his side, Blair gazed deep into her eyes, seeing in them love and concern. "I…I was doing some checking--on Eolia."

"And you found out?"

Letting out a long sigh, he rolled onto his back again, staring up at the snow-covered skylight. "Look, Dee, I know she's your friend--" He felt her shake her head as her fingers traced over his chest.

"No. You and Megan and Jim are my friends, are my family. Lia is…someone I once knew. I'm not so certain I know her anymore. Not after what you said earlier." 

"Okay." Blair took a deep breath and launched into his explanation. "I read what I could of her chronicle, and I had my friend, Jack Kelso, do some checking into her work with the CIA. Most of what I got was incomplete, and a lot of it rumor and innuendo, but…when I look at you, I see an Immortal who has lived her life in the light. When I look at Lee, I see someone who has spent their life in the shadows, and who doesn't know the difference between light and dark anymore. She plays whichever side can be of the most benefit to her at the moment, regardless of the consequences for anyone else."

Dee propped herself up on her elbow and regarded him seriously. "So which side do you think she's playing now?"

Blair closed his eyes for a long moment, then said, "I don't know. And that's what scares me."

She considered his comment for a long moment, then replied, "I think her grief over Azir's death is genuine. And I think she really does care for Jim. Do I think she would be good for him? Probably not. But that's not our decision to make, Lobo. That's up to Lee and Jim."

He sighed again. "I know. I just hate not being able to tell Jim what I know. Not that he's ever listened to me when it comes to women anyway."

Settling back down beside him, Dee said, "Well, I gave her an ultimatum. She has three days to tell him who and what she is. Thursday night, all bets are off and he hears the truth from me. Now close your eyes, Lobo. There's nothing we can do tonight."

Turning onto his side, Blair tugged the covers higher on his shoulder, feeling Dee spoon up behind him, her arm snaking around his waist and hugging him closer. In spite of his worries, his eyes finally closed, and he slept.

* * *

Jan-Michel LaFollet hated lying to his boss, but there was no way in hell he was going to trust her safety to just one man. Especially not if that man was Jim Ellison. Diandra had left her apartment earlier, stepping over to Sandburg's place, leaving him alone in her loft with Lee as she finished getting ready for her night out.

Knocking lightly on the door to her room, he called out. "Lee, you decent?"

"Come on in, Jan."

Stepping into the small room, he was surprised by the difference in his boss's appearance. She'd changed into a suit he'd never seen before, the teal green color highlighting the auburn in her long hair. Her tresses had been done up in a fancy braid that cascaded down her back. "Lee, I know that you want to be alone with Ellison, but I really want you to reconsider. The man, or men, that tried to kill you are still on the loose. You need someone to watch your back."

Smiling, Lee Eolia stepped over to her bodyguard's side and patted him on the cheek. "I'll be fine, Jan. Trust me?"

"It's not you I don't trust." The words slipped past his lips before he could stop them.

"Jan! You sound jealous." Her hand dropped away.

Snatching up her hand, he gave it a fast squeeze. "That came out wrong. I trust you and I think I can trust Ellison. It's the person that's after you I don't trust."

"That's your job." She let out a short laugh. "Well, one of them at least. Have you told any of the Watchers that you're now an Immortal?"

Jan-Michel nodded. "Yeah, it kinda came out while Sandburg and I were talking with Dawson. I get to be my own Watcher, sending my reports to Dawson who will set up a Chronicle on me under a pseudonym."

"That's for the best then. Remind me when we get back home to start helping you learn how to set up your next identity. It never hurts to be prepared." With that cryptic comment, she slipped past him and out of the room. He made to follow her, only to stop as he heard the knock on the front door of the apartment. Glancing down at his watch, he realized he couldn't fault Ellison's timing -- it was 20:00 hours on the mark.

Slipping into his own room, he listened as Lee greeted her date, then waited until he heard the rhythmic tapping of her cane sword on the hall floor before exiting his room to step out into the living/workout area of the loft. He approached Ellison to have a few quiet words with the man.

"It's against my better judgement, but Lee convinced me to leave the two of you by yourselves tonight. Otherwise, I'd be right on your tails."

"I'll take care of her, LaFollet. You have my word on that."

"That's all I'm asking, Ellison." Jan-Michel turned around when he heard the tap of Eolia's cane on the floor of the hallway. Moving over to her side, he silently helped her into her coat, checking to make sure that she had removed her backup sword from its proper place, then disappeared down the hall to his room.

The waiting started. He gave the couple plenty of time to make it downstairs, praying to the Lord above that neither Diandra nor his fellow Watcher returned. He opened the window in his room, straining to hear the sound signaling their departure. After several minutes had passed, the roar of a powerful truck engine cut through the moist, chill air. Grabbing up his coat and side arms, both his gun and Azir's sword, he headed out.

He wasted no time in leaving the apartment, trotting down the stairs to the Lexus, thankful Lee hadn't requested the keys of him. Carefully, he pulled out of the parking area and, with his training in tailing a suspect, was able to spot the taillights of Ellison's truck a few blocks away. Not wanting to alert the detective, Jan-Michel held back as far as he could and not lose sight of his charge.

They pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant which was lavishly designed to look on the outside like an ornate Far East Pagoda. Finding an empty spot near the curb, the security specialist parked and waited.

* * *

By his watch, it had been 98 minutes since Ellison and Eolia had entered the Dragon Pearl, and the snow, which had been predicted to start after midnight, had arrived 42 minutes earlier. Taking the chance that no one would notice the oddity of a car parked with snow starting to stick to the metal, but with the front window clear of the frozen precipitation, his patience was rewarded in a way he couldn't believe.

Raising the opera glasses to his eyes to confirm the identity of the businessman being assisted to his car, Jan-Michel felt the warm glow of satisfaction curl in his gut. "Well, lookie who's here. Mr. Ventriss. Okay, Ellison, you'd better take care of Lee, because I cannot pass up this opportunity." Tossing the glasses back to the passenger's seat, he started up the Lexus, and when the stretch Cadillac pulled out of the Chinese restaurant's lot, it had a discreet tail.

He halfway expected the owner of QuestScape to return to his home, but was surprised when the car pulled up outside of the Cascade Jockey's Club. "What? Not enough booze onboard, Ventriss? You're probably well on the way to a severe case of pickled liver." Waiting until the man's driver had pulled away from the covered entrance, Jan pulled into the 'member's only' parking lot. The parka encased attendant stepped out of the heated gatehouse to challenge his right to park there. After digging in his wallet, Jan showed the shivering young man his membership card to Jockey's Club, International and the boy raised the gate for him.

The membership in the exclusive men's club had been a gift from Azir two years ago for his services. It was a lifetime membership, which granted him immediate access to any Jockey's Club, anywhere in the world, no questions asked. Entering the posh, yet stately club, Jan signed the member's book and, after asking the location of the bar, was escorted to the doors of the watering hole. 

Spying Ventriss sitting at the bar, Jan walked over to him and sat down next to the man, who was already halfway through what appeared to be a whiskey sour. The bartender came over to take his drink order and he gave his usual request. "Glenlivet. Neat."

Norman Ventriss tensed as he heard the voice of the man who had sat next to him. He carefully swiveled the barstool around to look at him. "Christ. Your boss having you tail me, LaFollet? It is LaFollet, isn't it?"

Putting his best mission face on, Jan looked over at the man and smiled. "Mr. Ventriss, how nice to see you again, sir." The bartender placed his drink order in front of him and the Watcher took a sip of the potent liquor. "Why would you think Ms. Eolia would have me follow you? She gave me the night off, since she had a little date with a detective, and I just thought I'd drop in here to see if this Jockey's Club matched up with the others I've visited."

"Ellison. She's out with Ellison. Son of a bitch." Ventriss slammed back the last of his drink and signaled to the man behind the bar that he wanted another. "Damn bitch had the audacity to threaten me! She doesn't know who she's messing with."

"Lee threatened you, Ventriss? That's not her style -- unless you pissed her off?" Jan was curious, wanting to know what went down inside the Dragon Pearl. He hoped he could get the man to spill the beans.

"Pissed her off? I only called it like I saw it, LaFollet."

"Oh?"

The older man took a healthy swallow of his fresh drink then returned his attention to the man sitting next to him. "Your boss is a whore, you know that, LaFollet? A thieving, conniving slut who will probably get away with stealing from my company because she's fucking the lead detective."

Jan-Michel had to fight hard to hold his temper. "I've heard Ms. Eolia referred to as a lot of things, but never a thief and certainly not a whore, Mr. Ventriss."

Norman leaned in closer to the man. "She fucking you too?"

"No." The answer growled out of his throat.

"Shame. I bet she's good in the sack, nice tight ass like that."

He couldn't take it anymore. Reaching out, as if to hold the man steady as he started to slip out of the chair, Jan-Michel clamped down hard on the man's shoulder. His voice was deadly in its quiet tone. "I wouldn't know. And I'd be careful who you're calling a thief, Ventriss. After all, the drive still hasn't turned up and I think, once it does, you can kiss your contracts with the Defense Department good-bye."

"Fuck. That's what she said too." 

Before he could dig further into the inebriated man's mind another gentleman approached them. The man was dressed in a dark silk suit, his hair nicely silvered and his mustache neatly trimmed. "Norm? Everything okay here?"

"Goddamn, not another fucking Ellison! Get out of my way, William." Ventriss rudely brushed past the other man, yelling at the top of his voice. "Carl! Carl! Get the damn car, we're leaving!" 

The man Ventriss had called William watched as Ventriss moved unsteadily towards the door, then sighed as he turned to greet the man that had been seated next to Ventriss. "I'm usually pretty good with faces, but I don't think I've ever seen you around here. I'm William Ellison."

Shaking the man's hand in greeting, Jan said, "Jan-Michel LaFollet, sir. Nice to meet you."

Taking the seat Ventriss had abandoned, William called out to the bartender. "Tony? Get me another scotch, and refresh Mr. LaFollet's while you're at it."

"Yes, sir. Pinch as usual?"

"What else?" Turning to face LaFollet, he asked, "So, LaFollet, where are you from?"

The conversation with William Ellison, father of James AKA Jim Ellison, proved to be rather interesting. LaFollet found out the man had kept track of his son's career, even if he didn't like it much, and was rather proud of the idea his son had been named "Policeman Of The Year" several years running. He'd also discovered that Ellison, the son, had been an Army Ranger. The friendly rivalry between the military elite -- US Navy SEALS, Army Rangers, USAF Parajumpers, and Marine Force Recon was intense -- but only because the men in those units knew they were the best. Jan-Michel allowed himself to relax, secure in the knowledge Lee was safe from harm while with Jim Ellison.

After sharing two drinks with LaFollet, the older man had excused himself, stating that he needed to get home before the roads got really bad, but Jan-Michel wasn't ready to leave. Not yet. He had too much to think about, and every time his thoughts led him back to the developing relationship between Eolia and Ellison, he ordered another glass of Glenlivet. 

Tony, the Jockey Club's mixologist, cut him off after the tenth glass. "Mr. LaFollet, I think you've had more than enough tonight. Do I need to call a cab for you, sir?"

"No." Jan-Michel carefully set his empty glass back on the bar. "Tell me, Tony, does this Club have rooms available for members who get a little too tanked? The one in New York does."

"Of course, sir. You just need to talk to the manager."

"'kay, I'll do that." He rose, unsteadily, to his feet. "After I visit the head." Leaving the bar area, he slowly made his way to the men's room, took care of business, then left the Club. He knew that getting behind the wheel of the Lexus was stupid, but he couldn't just leave it in the parking lot over night. He and Lee might need it later.

The streets were starting to pack over with snow, turning into ice in places, and were lightly traveled. Not too many people were out and about in this weather. "Pansies. We get worse than this back home in New York." Even so, Jan-Michel found himself being rerouted around a rather nasty accident, and he was thankful the cops working the scene didn't stop anyone -- just waved them around the pile up and on their way.

It was a well after midnight when he finally pulled into a parking spot outside of his and Lee's temporary home. The buzz that greeted his arrival did nothing, this time, to clear the alcohol induced haze in his mind as he made his way up the stairs to the third floor. His thoughts kept returning to the hateful words that Norman Ventriss had spoken. "Lee's not a whore, she's not a thief either. I would know, right? After all, I love her. Oh, god!" He stopped on the last landing and turned his gaze upwards, "Azir, forgive me, my friend, but it's true. I've loved your wife, your widow, for a long time. But I never would act on that love, I couldn't. Not while you were still around."

A peaceful feeling enveloped him, making Jan-Michel think that maybe Azir heard his words and forgave him. Sighing, he slowly trudged up the last few steps and, using a key Diandra had given him earlier, let himself into the Immortal Amazon's loft.

* * *

Dee rolled over onto her back and stared up through the skylight at the still falling snow. It was after midnight, and now she couldn't sleep. She listened to the deep, even breathing of the man beside her. From the sound of it, Blair would be out the rest of the night. She ran a hand lightly down his back, his warm presence next to her giving Dee a sense of home, of belonging. It was a feeling she hadn't felt in years, millennia perhaps. The only other person in her life to touch her this deeply had been Lydia. Wherever Lydia had been, had been home, whether it had been the Queen's palace or a battlefield. She had that now with Blair and, it occurred to her, the beginnings of that kind of connection with Megan. How had she ever gotten so lucky? Moving closer to her lover, she leaned her head against his shoulder, inhaling the familiar mixture of scents that signified "Blair" to her. Contentment filled her. This must be what heaven feels like.

Closing her eyes again, she tried to go back to sleep, but the couple hours she'd gotten earlier seemed to have been enough. And now she was thirsty. Sighing, Diandra crawled out of bed, tucking the covers snugly around Blair so he wouldn't get cold while she was gone. 

Walking downstairs to the kitchen, she opened the fridge and took out a bottle of water. Unscrewing the cap, she'd just taken a sip when she felt the electric tingle down her spine that heralded an approaching Immortal. She heard unsteady footsteps coming up the stairs. They paused outside her door, and she could pick up the sounds of someone trying to fit a key in the lock. Even before the door opened, she could smell the alcohol fumes rolling off of Jan-Michel.

Dee shook her head. Drunk for the third night in a row. It was amazing he still had his head. Someone ought to teach him a lesson. _And I guess it's going to be me._ The door finally opened after much noisy fumbling, and LaFollet staggered in, not even sparing a glance in her direction. In fact she could swear he didn't know she was there. Setting her water bottle on the counter, Dee crossed to her duster, which hung on a peg beside the door. Her hand went unerringly to the hilt of her katana, and she drew the weapon, her eyes never leaving the inebriated Immortal as he wove across the studio, struggling out of his overcoat, dumping it in a heap on the sofa.

Coming up behind him on silent feet, Dee debated simply running him through. As drunk as he was, he would probably think he just passed out and not realize he'd died. Instead, she took two running paces toward him, planting a flying kick between his shoulder blades. 

Jan-Michel went to the floor, rolling to face her quicker than she expected, his gun in one hand and his sword in the other. A snap kick sent the automatic skidding to the far corners of the darkened room. He brought the blade up in a defensive posture, clearly uncertain of where the attack was coming from. She circled around him, letting the gray light from the French doors leading to the balcony back light her for a moment. He lunged at her silhouette. Dee stepped to the side and kneed him in the stomach, then moved back, letting him chase her. She didn't even bother parrying his sword; his muscle coordination was so bad he could barely hold it steady. Toying with him as a cat plays with a mouse, she let him draw close, then struck with a kick or a punch, only to skip out of the way again. 

They danced together in silence for several minutes, then Dee picked up the first scent of genuine fear from him. _Fear is good. And you're going to be very afraid…_ For the first time since she'd engaged him in battle, Diandra brought her sword into play, slashing a shallow cut across his bicep. Jan-Michel grunted and raised his sword again. She whirled around him, her blade flashing in the dim light as she carved her marks into him. Never a mortal wound, but enough to let him know she was in complete control, that he was at her mercy. 

"Please…" he finally begged. "Why are you doing this? Please…stop…"

The Amazon brought her blade across the back of his thigh, the steel biting deep this time, hamstringing him. Jan-Michel tumbled to his knees, losing his weapon in the process. He gazed up at her, the realization of his helplessness visible in his eyes. "Remember this night, Jan-Michel," she intoned softly, then ran her katana through his heart. 

Pulling her weapon from his now dead body, Diandra crossed to the seat underneath her weapons wall. Opening a box under the bench, she took out a silk cloth. Seating herself cross-legged on the bench, she proceeded to clean the blood from her blade as she waited for him to return. Almost fifteen minutes later he did, with a convulsive shudder and a gasp of air. She watched him from her seat as he looked around the studio. His normal eyesight couldn't find her in the shadows and, after a frantic search for his sword and his gun, LaFollet retreated down the hallway to his room. Dee smiled as she heard him engage the lock on his door. 

Hanging her sword in its accustomed place on the wall, she padded up the spiral staircase to catch Blair crawling back into bed, and she knew he had witnessed the fight. "Lobo?"

Blair shook his head, then held out his hand to her. She sat down on the edge of the bed, and he pulled her into a hug. "That was cruel, angel," he whispered in her ear. "Cruel and sadistic. But it may just save his life someday."

She nodded against his shoulder, but kept quiet for a while. Finally, she said, "Tomorrow I'll have a talk with Eolia. I don't think she's going to do him any good as a Teacher."

He clasped the back of her neck with his hand for a moment, squeezing gently. "You may be right." Scooting up toward the head of the bed, he pushed the covers down. "Come on, you're going to need to be well rested to tackle that conversation."

Smiling, Dee crawled up next to Blair, and wrapped herself around him.

* * *

Waking long before the rest of the people in the apartment, I dress and stealthily make my way into the living area, carrying my shoes and heavy winter coat. Spying LaFollet's coat on the back of the sofa, I dig through the pockets and find the keys to the Lexus. I walk all the way to the first floor in my socks, sitting down on the last few steps to put my hiking boots on. Checking to make sure that I have the tools I need in my pockets and my waist purse, I leave.

The SUV handles the snow covered roads easily, and my years of driving in such conditions serves me well, even though the city's maintenance crews are working hard to clear the roads. I'm taking a huge chance this morning, I know that, but I cannot allow Ventriss to think I wasn't serious. The man must have forgotten he gave me his home address. After all, if the security check had gone as planned I was to have turned over the dummy prop to him. 

One of the things that was drilled into my head, over and over again in my long life, was 'know the area - study the lay of the land - make it yours.' Memorizing maps produced in these modern times is far easier than it was two or three hundred years ago. Back then, I would've had to have walked the entire city to know it. 

This part of Cascade is obviously the place where the wealthy and the influential gather to show the world who they are. Parking in the man's driveway, I get out and approach the huge manor house. Spotting the home alarm system, I pull out my tools and disarm the damn thing, then pick the lock and let myself into the house. I stop on the threshold, straining my ears to check for sounds of movement. Nothing. Apparently no one is awake yet. I move off to my left, looking for the man's home office or library. If he was responsible for the disappearance of the DVD drive from his development lab, he might have it hidden here. I find the library, which also doubles for the man's office, and start my search.

Nothing! Damn him! Maybe he didn't steal the damn disc. What's this? I reach out and pick up a framed photo of Mr. Norman Ventriss and a younger man, and nearly drop it as I recognize him. Ventriss knows the Immortal thief who has been dogging my heels? Son of a bitch! Well, that certainly explains a few things, like who the old man hired to steal the faulty program. 

Someone's awake, and moving in this direction! Well, Fate has been known to favor the bold. I smile and relax, seating myself in the chair behind the desk, waiting patiently.

* * *

Norman Ventriss couldn't believe his stupidity. Being drunk was no excuse for his behavior last night, either at the Dragon Pearl or the Jockey's Club. He'd have to call William and apologize to him later. Slowly making his way down the stairs towards his office and the dry bar, intent on taking a little bite of the hair of the dog -- nothing like a little shot of vodka to cure a hangover -- he entered the converted library. 

"Son of a… Who let you in here?!" He stared in shock at the red-haired woman seated behind his desk.

"I did. You really have lousy tastes in security programs, Mr. Ventriss." Lee Eolia stood up and came around the desk to face him. He suddenly felt very underdressed in his pajamas, a maroon smoking jacket in place of a proper robe. 

"You broke in here?" He backed away from the woman, not sure what her intentions were.

"Yes. I did." The expression on his face apparently amused her, because she chuckled. "Oh, do relax, Ventriss. I'm not here to do anything to you. Unless you force me to."

"What do you want?"

"I already got part of what I came here for. Too bad I didn't find the DVD-RAM, then I really could put the screwing to you that you so richly deserve." She handed him the framed photo. "Nice looking boy in the photo with you."

"My son, Bradley." His fingers traced the form of his son, the heartache welling up again, as it did every time he thought about his boy.

"Your son?" 

"My adopted son, but I loved him like he was my flesh and blood." Norman brushed past the small woman, gently placing the frame back on his desk. "He died a few months ago. I never got the chance to say goodbye. He was killed in a stupid jailhouse brawl…" He spun around at the sound of the front door slamming. Lee Eolia was no longer in the room. Moving towards the foyer, pushing the curtain aside on the window, he saw a black Lexus 300 pull down the snow covered drive and turn onto the street. "What a strange woman."

* * *

Fuck! The man's adopted son is the same damn Immortal who tried to kill me twice! I race from the house, slamming the door behind me as I run. The kid died a few months ago, a newborn with no sense of honor. Who trained him? Did he even have a Teacher? Pulling the satellite phone from the glove compartment when I slow the car to a stop at an intersection, I place the call that might get me the information I need.

"I need to speak to the DDO, please. Tell him that Leandra Evans is calling." I'm placed on hold as the man's secretary informs the Deputy Director - Operations that he has a call. The light changes as the man himself answers.

"Leandra, what in the hell?" I told you I wasn't going to okay you to come back to the CIA until you took some time off to grieve.

"Lew, I wouldn't call, but I need help."

"What can I do for you, Eolia?"

"Secure line?"

"Of course."

"I need to know everything you can find out about a Bradley Ventriss, last known location Cascade, Washington. You may want to contact the Archivists on this one."

"What's the story?"

"Let's just say that he needs to be kept track of." I turn onto Prospect Avenue. "I need the information as fast as you can get it to me, Lew." I give the man, my former Watcher and Deputy Director of the CIA, my cell phone number and close down the link. Llewyllyn Huddleston was an honorable man and a good friend to Azir and I. In fact, it is because of him that Azir and I were able to work for the Company time and time again without anyone ever suspecting that we were Immortals. Hell, he even managed to bury our files so deep, after the fiasco with the agent that went rogue on the Company, that it would take an act of Congress and God to find them, if they haven't been shredded. 

Jim's truck is gone. He must have gone in to work early. Hope he got more sleep than I did. I climb the stairs to Diandra's apartment, and as I crawl back into bed I realize I need to get serious about training Jan-Michel and getting myself back into shape. Yes, I want to live. Forgive me, Azir, but I'm not ready to join you in the after-life.

* * *

It was nearly noon when Blair got off the elevator at Major Crimes. He'd meant to get an earlier start on the day, but both he and Diandra had overslept. Then they had decided to wait a little bit to see if the streets got any better before heading out on their separate errands for the day. He walked into the bullpen to the cacophony of what sounded like every phone ringing at once. For a split second he considered turning around and walking right back out before he got drafted into answering calls. Too late. Jim had looked up from his phone and spotted him.

Crossing the room, Blair dropped into the chair next to Jim's desk, and waited until his friend had finished his call and switched his phone off before speaking. "Hey, busy morning?"

For a moment Blair thought Jim was going to bite his head off, then his friend's expression softened. "Yeah. I came in early to try and get caught up on paperwork, and Simon stuck me on the phones. Haven't got a damn thing done." He changed the subject, glancing around the room. "Where's your shadow?"

"What? Oh, Dee. She had some last minute holiday shopping to do, and with Lee and J-M staying with her, she needed to pick up groceries, too." Blair looked down at his feet for a moment, then back up at his roommate. "Look, Jim, about last night. I'm really sorry about what happened. I honestly didn't know the two of you were back yet."

Jim shrugged. "It's okay, Sandburg. I shouldn't have snapped at you. Things were tense before you walked in."

Blair blinked in surprise. "Tense? Tense how?"

"I'm not really sure. I think she wanted to take our relationship to another level, and I realized I wasn't ready for that yet. For some reason she took that as a rejection, I guess."

Blair pondered that for a moment, then said, "And I only made it worse. Like I said, I'm sorry. But I think going slow is a good idea. I mean, she really doesn't know you, and you don't know her. And she's probably still dealing with her husband's death, so maybe she's not really sure of what she wants."

Jim looked at his partner, his brow furrowed in puzzlement. "Any thing else, Dr. Crane?"

"Hmm, uh no, not really." He eyed the computer longingly.

"So did you have some particular reason for stopping by today?"

"Uh, yeah actually. I had an idea regarding the QuestScape break-in I'd like to follow up on."

When Blair didn't continue, Jim spoke up. "And? You planning on sharing that idea with me?"

The anthropologist fidgeted in his seat. "Not right now, Jim. If I told you, you'd laugh at me, so I'd rather just do it, and have it not pan out, and then have you laugh at me."

"Suit yourself. I have to get back to answering the phones." Jim made a face and switched his phone back on. It immediately rang and he picked it up.

Blair took over the computer, searching through the files for mug shots of men whose general description matched Brad Ventriss', then he printed them out. Picking them up at the printer, he was stuffing them in his backpack when Megan Connor walked into the bullpen.

Taking off her winter coat, she tossed it on her desk chair. "Hey, Sandy, how're you doing today? The roads are murder." She made a face, then said, "I'm going to get some coffee. Want to join me?" By the way she was looking at him, Blair knew it wasn't a request.

"Yeah, sure." He followed her out of Major Crimes and into the break room. "So what did you want to talk to me about?"

She poured coffee into her mug and added a liberal amount of sugar. "What in the hell is going on with Dee?"

Blair blinked at her. That was not what he had expected. "Nothing that I know of, why?"

Megan let out a long sigh. "I'm just feeling a little left out, I guess. As far as I knew, everything was fine Sunday night, but I call her up this morning, and she tells me Lee Eolia and her bodyguard are staying with her. Try as I might, I can't come up with any possible reason for that. I can't help but feel that somewhere along the line I'm being lied to."

The anthropologist shook his head. "That's not it at all, Megan. I'm sure Dee meant to let you know, but things have been a little hectic the past couple days. They're staying with her because LaFollet is a new Immortal." He figured that was safe enough, and not betraying any confidences, since they had revealed Jan's secret to Jim the day before. "She offered to help him train. And of course Eolia was part of the package."

Leaning against the counter, Megan sipped at her coffee, her expression neutral. "Okay, I guess I can buy that. So what's the deal with Jim and Eolia? They were all over each other Sunday. Is he interested in her?"

Once again her question startled him. "Jim likes her, yes. They went on a date last night, but when did Jim's personal life start interesting you? I thought he wasn't your type."

The Aussie's cheeks flushed pink. "He's not. Not really. I mean, it's been a long time. No, that's not what I meant. It hasn't been that long, but a long time since I was last interested in a guy." She ran a frustrated hand through her hair. "I'm not making any sense, am I?'

Blair sat on the corner of the break room table and gave her a grin. "I think I got the gist of it. It's been a long time since you've been attracted to a man, and if you were attracted to a man, it wouldn't be Jim, since he's not your type." A thought struck him. "Oh, no, Megan, don't tell me you're interested in Lee!"

Connor's eyes widened in horror. "Sandy! Definitely not! She's attractive and all, but there's just something about her that bothers me. I can't quite put my finger on it. But just the thought of her being around Dee, around Jim, just sets off all my alarms."

The guide's expression went from amused to serious. "I know what you mean, Megan. I felt the same thing when I met her. I think we perceive her as some kind of threat to our partners. And I did some checking up on her. She's not what she seems. She used to be CIA."

"What! Does Jim know this?"

Blair shook his head. "No, and please don't tell him, not until I have some more proof that she's up to no good. All I have right now are suspicions and a gut feeling, and Jim really, really likes her. I'd hate to mess that up for him if I'm wrong. You and I are both new to this spiritual bond business. Maybe what we're feeling is just a reaction to one of us having feelings for someone outside of our little quartet."

She seemed to consider that for a moment, then spoke, "If that's true, then are you saying I'm paired with Jim whether I want to be or not? Because I don't think I like that idea. Not that Jim's not a nice guy, but he has a lot of baggage, and well, he's a guy! And I'm not so sure I like the idea of my love life being preordained."

"I'll ask Dee later. Maybe she knows something. Oh, by the way, I think you were right about Brad Ventriss."

Frowning, she asked, "What are you talking about?"

"I found one of your post-it notes on the files when I went over them yesterday, about Brad matching the description of Lee's attacker on Saturday. So I asked around down in the morgue, and I think Brad might have faked his own death."

She stared at him. "That was just a wild idea I had, Sandy. I was looking for a connection and that's the best I could come up with. It doesn't mean it's real."

"Maybe not. But it won't hurt to have Lee look at a photo line up. I ran off some mug shots of a couple guys who look similar to Brad. I'm going to show them to her this afternoon, along with Brad's picture. Maybe she'll pick him out."

"And if she does? What then?"

"Then we have a place to start looking. Oh, and please don't mention this to Jim, either." He hopped down from his perch on the table and headed for the door.

"You can count on that. Jim already thinks I'm a little nuts. I'm not going to mention that theory and have it confirmed for him. See you later this evening?"

"Oh, yeah, that's right. Dee said something about you coming over to wrap presents. Guess I'll see you later." Giving her a wave, Blair shouldered his backpack and headed for the elevator.

* * *

"Damn it, Jan! Keep your damn guard up!" With a forceful flick of my wrist, I send my student's blade flying from his grasp again, and it clatters against the far wall. "What is it with you this morning? I've watched you practice with Azir. You are much better than this."

Glaring at me, my student stalks over to his sword and picks it up. "Maybe I'm just tired, Lee."

"Tired?!" I rush him, my blade aiming for his neck. Steel clashes against steel, sparks actually flying as he finally shows me some real spirit and the skills I knew he'd been holding back. He barely manages to block my first blow, and soon, we're exchanging volleys of blows in honest to the gods combat.

I lose myself to the emotions coming over me, letting the feel of the blade in my hand rule me, the sheer joy of combat engulfing me in its dark embrace. 

_"You did what?"_

_"I sold myself to the Coliseum, you, too."_

_I stare at him, not believing my ears. "Why? For love of the Gods, tell me why!" I pace around the small bathing area, skirting the edge of the shallow pool._

_"Because I cannot pay my debts any other way."_

_"Debts? Methos, what debts? I thought we were doing fine!" I finally sit down on the lounge next to him, adjusting my stolae around my legs as I catch a glimpse of something in his dark eyes._

_"We were. The mines near Herkuleium have gotten too dangerous to keep the workers in them." His hand reaches up to lightly brush against my upper arm. "The terms of the deal I made with my debtor, our sponsor, are fairly simple. We both fight in the arena for one year. If we survive our, my, debt is paid in full."_

_"There's something you're not telling me, isn't there?"_

_"I've trained you well, Eolia. Your skills will see you through the upcoming fights." I stare at him, suspicious of his words. "Or, I can talk to Aurelius, arrange to keep you out of the arena." His hand, so vicious when holding a blade to instruct me in its use, is gentle as it traces the curve of my shoulder, flowing down to lightly caress my breast. "He likes you, you know that. Use that against him."_

_"Like I did with that bumbling idiot, Praetor Neimus? I'd rather fight in the arena in front of the Emperor." I feel my body starting to respond to my Teacher's touch and, shaking my head, I grab his hand to stop him. "What do you want me to do, Methos?"_

_"I won't make that choice for you, Little One." He rises off the lounge, pulling me up with him. "Tonight is my last night of freedom before I go to train as a Gladiator. Let's spend it together." I follow him willingly to the part of the house where we've slept for five years as man and wife. Tomorrow, I'll join him in the training; I'll fight in the Coliseum. I'll survive, and make damn sure that he does too._

The training I received at the hands of Rome's best Trainers, and from my Teacher, served me well. I quickly rose to be a favorite of the people, and of the Emperor's. I never lost a match. Neither did Methos, and after our year of servitude was up, he joined the Legions. 

Jan-Michel actually manages to get a glancing blow past my guard to rattle my protective head gear. Shaking my head, I clear my thoughts and concentrate on the here and now. 

The blade is coming at me from the left. I dodge and roll away from the contact, coming back up to my feet behind my student. Smiling, I kick my right foot out and hit him over the kidney. He stumbles, but he's already coming back at me, his swing wild. I manage to avoid it by somersaulting away. 

"Better, Jan-Michel. Much better," I call out as I salute him with my blade. "Ready for a break?"

"Am I ever!" He drops to his knees on the mat, one hand still clenching his practice sword, the other reaching around to rub at the left side of his back. "I can't believe you kicked me."

Crossing over to place the sword I chose for this morning's session back in its rack, I laugh. "You need to learn to use all your skills, not just the ones with steel. If you're smart, after we've rested, you'll come up with a few surprises for me." I step back onto the mat, then instead of walking over to him, I hop into a full front flip with two twists and end up standing right over him. "Sometimes, the only thing that will save your head is doing something your opponent won't expect." 

I never see the move. The next thing I know, he's got me pinned to the mat, his body pressing against mine, his blade against my throat. "Like this?" His voice growls in my ear.

"Exactly like that." He made a mistake. My student didn't trap my arms, and he's forgotten one little detail. "Jan? Before you get too comfy, look down." I point with my eyes and watch as he follows my gaze to see my throwing knife placed against his stomach.

"Shit!" He moves off of me, eager to get away from the blade.

I sit back up, laughing as I sheath the sharpened blade in its hidden place on my belt. "Never underestimate your opponent. She may just be sneakier than you." Pulling my feet under my thighs, I rise off the mat and walk towards the kitchen. "Let's get some water, rest a little longer, then we'll try again."

After getting my glass of water, and handing Jan one, I lean against the counter and study my student. There are signs, little ones, that he's more than just worn out from the practice session. "Jan, what happened to you last night? Has it got something to do with why you're tired?"

He avoids my gaze, looking anywhere but at me. "I, uh, followed you and Ellison. I wanted to make sure you were safe, Lee, nothing more." 

My tone of voice is cold, almost detached. "Go on."

"I saw Mr. Ventriss leave the Dragon Pearl and, deciding I could trust Ellison to protect you, I followed the man to the Jockey's Club." Something happened at the exclusive club. My student is actually blushing and still avoiding looking directly at me. "I got cozy with him in the bar, said a few things that maybe I shouldn't have, but he was slandering you and I couldn't let him do that."

Oh geez. Even when he's not right by my side, or guarding my back, the former SEAL still tries to protect me. "Let me guess, Ventriss called me a whore, didn't he?" Jan nods in agreement. "I've been called worse, believe me. And it'll probably happen again in the future, so don't let it get to you. I don't."

"It gets worse."

I sigh, wondering where this is going. "So tell me already."

"I got drunk. Really drunk, shit-faced, totally wasted." 

Aw, damn it, Jan. When are you going to learn? Maybe I should start looking for another Teacher for you, my friend. One who will kick your ass when you need it. His next words still my thoughts completely.

"When I came in last night, this morning actually, I got my first challenge. Only they didn't take my head, just ran me through the heart and left me for dead."

"Diandra." How DARE she! He's my student. It was my lesson to teach -- if it needed to be taught. Shit, maybe it did. This is the third time I've seen him suffering the effects of too much alcohol. And I never heard him come home. Maybe I should hand him over to Diandra to teach. 

"I think so, at least I think it was her voice that told me to remember this morning. I never knew that dying could hurt so much, or that reviving was such a great cure for being drunk." I watch as he slides down the wall he's leaning against, tucking his long legs under his buttocks. "I'm never going to drink again. The Pallas One Step Program to Sobriety sure beats AA's Twelve Step deal all to hell."

I can't help it. He probably didn't mean to be funny, but I'm chuckling as I walk back towards the exercise area. "I'm going to hold you to that promise, Jan-Michel." I pick up the practice blade he'd left on the mat and toss it to him. "Let's try again, shall we?" 

Later, when Diandra returns, I'll ask her if she wants a Student, and if she doesn't, I'll make some phone calls. There are a few Immortals I'd trust to train my friend; maybe one them would be willing to let me call in the favors they owe me. 

Jan's first move surprises me, a hard shot to the sword, followed through with a backhand to my face and a kick to my hip. Damn, that was a good combination. I dance away, out of the reach of his blade, smiling. "Very good, Jan. Now, let's play the Game."

* * *

The sound of steel meeting steel reached Blair's ears as he got off the elevator on the third floor of 852. Good, that meant that Lee and Jan-Michel were in. Using his key to Diandra's loft, he let himself in and shrugged out of his backpack and jacket, then pulled the mug shots out and crossed the living area to the studio. He stood in the passageway between the two rooms for several minutes, watching the Immortals spar. 

Lee finally noticed him and lowered her sword, jerking her head in his direction. "Let's take a break, Jan."

"Fine with me." The Watcher set his sword down on a bench and headed for the kitchen. Lee kept her blade in hand as she approached Blair.

"There something you want, Sandburg?"

Blair felt the hair on the back of his neck raise, and it was all he could do to keep from pulling his lips back in a snarl. He really didn't like her. But, he reminded himself, she's Dee's guest, and Jim is stuck on her. Smile and use some of that Sandburg charm. "Hi, Lee. I've been helping Jim and Megan out with the QuestScape break-in and I pulled some photos of some guys with a background in computer piracy. I was wondering if you would take a look at them, see if you recognize any of them."

An emotion flashed across her face too quickly for him to catalog, then she said, "Sure, I'd be glad to. But I don't know how much good it will do. You know I didn't get a good look at the thief."

"I know, but you did get a glimpse of the guy who killed your bodyguard, and right now we're operating on the theory they're one and the same." He held out the photos and she took them, tucking her sword under her arm.

She flipped through them quickly and handed them back. "Nope, sorry, don't recognize any of them."

Oh, great, she was really being helpful. Either she knew the guy wasn't going to be there, or she knew he was, and didn't want to let Blair know. He held the photos under her nose again. "Take another look, and take your time. If anyone looks even vaguely familiar it'll at least give us some place to start."

Once again the Immortal leafed through them, pausing for a lengthy two seconds on each photo. "Sorry, but none of these look like the man I saw. But like I said, I didn't get a good look at him."

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Blair thanked her and headed upstairs, pausing to grab his backpack. All the cop instincts he'd picked up from hanging out at the PD were screaming at him she was lying, that she had recognized one of the photos and it had been Brad Ventriss'. And if he followed that line of reasoning, then she had been lying all along to Dee and to Methos. He distinctly remembered both of them asking if her attacker had been immortal. Both times she had replied "no" or she "didn't know." 

Sitting down on the bed, he tugged his laptop out of his pack. Maybe Eolia's old Watcher had responded to his email, hopefully with information he could use to pry the truth out of her. Just as he was opening it up and switching it on, his cell phone chirped. Rummaging through the pockets of his bag, Blair finally pulled it out and clicked it on. "Hello."

"May I speak with Blair Sandburg?" a male voice inquired.

"Speaking."

"This is Lew Huddleston. You sent me an email regarding Leandra Evans, or Lee Eolia as I understand she's going by now?"

Blair fairly bounced on the mattress. "Oh wow, this is great. I was just getting online to see if I had an email from you. I have so many questions I need answered about Eolia, and I keep running into brick walls."

"Well, I'll help you as much as I can, but my hands are still tied as far as most of her CIA records are concerned. Most of her assignments are still classified."

The anthropologist sighed. "That's what I was afraid of. My sources tell me that she was working in Peru the same time as Lee Brackett. That's the time I'm most interested in. Can you tell me what she was working on?"

"No, sorry, that's still classified."

Blair thought a moment, then asked, "What about Brackett's projects? Could you see if Leandra is listed as ever working on any of those?"

"Ah, I can tell you're used to making your way around governmental red tape, Mr. Sandburg. Give me a few minutes and I'll see what I can come up with." The sound of computer keys being tapped came over the line.

"Well, working with the PD has given me an insight into the governmental mind, not to mention all my experience filling out grant forms," Blair replied with a laugh.

"Here we go. Eolia worked one project with Brackett, his last one before he left the Company. It was actually kind of a joke around here. We couldn't believe he actually got the funding for it."

A nasty knot began to form in Blair's stomach. "Could you tell me what that project was?"

"Sure, it's not classified any longer, as nothing ever came of it. Brackett was testing people for heightened senses. Most of the people he tested only had heightened taste or scent. You know, the folks coffee and perfume companies hire. It made him a laughing stock, maybe pissed him off enough to send him into business for himself."

Blair thought he was going to be sick, but he managed to end the phone call without raising the other man's suspicions. "Thanks, Mr. Huddleston. You've been a great help. Goodbye." Clicking the phone off, he fought back the urge to throw it across the room. God damn it! Some Guide he was, allowing someone who was a danger to Jim and to Dee to get that close to them. He should have spoken up, voiced his suspicions earlier. Now the snake was in their midst. Well that was going to come to an end right now.

Getting to his feet, Blair trotted down the stairs, finding Lee and Jan-Michel preparing to spar again. "Eolia," he snapped, "I need to talk to you--" He was interrupted mid-speech as Diandra staggered into the studio, covered in blood. "Dee? Oh, god, Dee!" Blair rushed to her side, catching her as she collapsed. He went to the floor with her, cradling her in his arms, feeling her life slipping away.


	7. Chapter 7

Dee drove past the front of 852 Prospect, cursing under her breath. Of course all the parking spaces in front were taken when she had a load of groceries and last minute holiday presents in the back. Pulling around behind the building, she parked in the back lot and got out. Immediately she felt the prickling sensation down her spine. Turning up her hearing, she picked up the clash of swords coming from her loft on the third floor. Lee must be working with Jan-Michel. Good. The quicker he was up to speed, the better.

Getting out of the Wagoneer, she walked around to the rear, feeling the soft, cold kiss of fat, wet snowflakes against her face. Their trip to Hawaii was looking better every day. She was reaching for the hatch release when the bullet tore through her upper back, slamming her against the truck. Oh shit! Barely keeping on her feet, she darted around the side of the truck as a second bullet shattered the rear window. The buzz washed over her again, stronger this time, and she realized someone was looking to take her head the easy way. Hell if she was going to lie down and let him do it!

She ran for the safety of the loft, feeling another shot strike her in the lower back and exit her stomach. There was no way she was going to make it around to the entrance, and no help was going to come from her friends inside; whoever the gunman was, they were using a silencer. Bullets kicked up a spray of snow at her feet. When in doubt, do the unexpected. Dee sprinted toward the building, leaping up to grab the bottom of the fire escape, cranking the pain dial down as far as it would go as she felt the partially healed wound in her shoulder tear open. Scrambling upwards, she fell to her hands and knees one flight up as her assailant sent two rounds through her right leg. Damn it! She wasn't going to die like this, not at the hands of a faceless Immortal who didn't play by the rules. 

Crawling up one more ladder, she found herself on the landing outside Blair's bedroom. Screw the door. She dove headfirst through the window, rolling over the bed to land on her back on the floor in a pool of blood and broken glass. She could feel herself starting to fade, her injuries too great for her body to heal without completely shutting down. _Come on, Dee, get up! You die here, you're vulnerable; everyone is across the hall._ Goddess, she was so tired... .

Her eyes started to close, then something nudged at her senses, and they flew open. The grinning face of her attacker leered at her through the broken window. "Goodbye, bitch!" His weapon appeared in the opening, his finger squeezing the trigger as her throwing dagger buried itself in his throat. With a strangled cry, he staggered back, tumbling over the railing.

A low moan escaped her lips as she pressed a hand against the new hole in her chest. _Get up, damn you! He's gonna recover before you do. Focus, I need a focus..._ Almost as soon as she had the thought, the sound of the guide's voice filled her ears. _Lobo... I need to get to Blair..._ Using the edge of the desk, she clawed her way to her feet, stumbling through the open French doors and across the loft to the door, blood-slick fingers fumbling with the lock, then flinging it open. 

Falling across the hallway, she caught herself on the doorknob of 308, feeling it turn in her grasp. She hung on the door as it opened inward, using the momentum to propel herself across the living area and into the studio. She was vaguely aware of three faces turning toward her, then her vision dimmed and her legs crumbled underneath her. 

"Dee? Oh, god, Dee!" Strong arms caught her, lowering her gently to the floor. The unique scent of her lover filled her nostrils as the rapid pounding of his heart drowned out everything else. She was safe now; she could let go. Surrendering to death's embrace, she let the darkness pull her under.

* * *

Blair tightened his arms around Diandra, pulling her closer, his shocked mind thinking that if he only held her close enough, he could protect her. God, how had this happened? Who would have attacked her? A quick look confirmed at least three bullet holes in her torso, one large crimson stain directly over her heart.

He heard Eolia swear. "Damn it! Jan--"

"On it, Lee!" The Watcher produced a gun from somewhere and headed out the door.

Leaning his cheek against Dee's hair, Blair felt tears running down his face. She was coming back; he knew she was coming back, but it still frightened him, feeling her so still in his arms, her warmth fading. Lee was pacing the studio, talking to herself in Greek. He hadn't been paying much attention to her words, until two of them caught his ear, immortal and rogue, which were followed by something about "the bastard's son," and he knew. All his theories, his conjectures, his what ifs coalesced in that moment. 

Laying Dee down gently on the hardwood floor, Blair got to his feet slowly, rage simmering inside him. "You knew."

The Immortal turned toward him. "What?"

"You knew. All this time, you knew! You didn't say anything, not even when she asked! You didn't even warn her there was a headhunter in Cascade! A headhunter who shoots his victims before beheading them!" Blair bent over Diandra for a second, then straightened, her katana in his hand. "I showed you his fucking picture not twenty minutes ago, and you denied you'd ever seen him. Why? Why would you do this to her? What has she ever done to you?"

Lee made a placating gesture toward him. "Sandburg, what are you talking about? A headhunter? Here? Please, put the sword down and we'll talk--"

"Fuck you!" He waved a hand at Dee. "This is your work! Your lies and your secrets did this to her! No more! I won't let you hurt anyone else, not Dee, not Jim, not Megan! Get out!"

The red-haired woman shook her head in disbelief. "Why? I didn't do this to Diandra, HE did!"

"You heard me. Get out! Get out of this apartment! Get out of Cascade and don't come back!" She took a step toward him, and Blair brought the sword up into a ready position. For a moment he thought she was going to challenge him, then he saw the uncertainty and maybe a touch of fear and anger in her eyes. She didn't know what he was capable of and that was enough to make him a threat.

"Fine, I'll go." Stalking across the room, she grabbed her coat from the hook by the door. "But know this, young Watcher -- if I'm not here, if Jan's not here, then you and Dee are sitting ducks for this asshole. Watch your backs." She left, slamming the still open door behind her. 

"I'd rather have a lump of clay watching my back than you, bitch. At least I know it wouldn't stab me when I wasn't looking." Blair moved swiftly, throwing the locks on the door, then returning to his lover's side. Sitting down next to her, he laid the katana down, then gathered her up in his arms again, rocking her gently, waiting for her to come back to him.

* * *

Running down the stairs, not bothering to look for Jan-Michel, I try to open myself up to see if I can pick up a trace of the Immortal son of Loki who has ruined my life. A distinct tang of foulness born in the depths of Hell greets my search and I'm pulling keys out of my coat pocket as I run to the Lexus. "You'll not get away that easy, Bradley, my dear." 

_I'm trying to get everything taken care of at the office before I head home for the day. Tomorrow, I get to go to Rochester Airport to pick up Azir when he returns from his business trip to Cascade, Washington. I had spoken to him a few minutes ago; he's in Seattle, a little side trip for me, and I'm more than looking forward to being in his strong arms again._

_Finishing the last report, I stand up to work kinks out of my back (I really need to work out more with Azir. I'm wound up tighter than a cheap watch). I toss a smile at LaFollet as I cross the Persian rug-covered floor to the credenza and the fresh pot of coffee waiting for me there. "Just about done, Jan-Michel. Sorry to have kept you cooped up all day."_

_The man's smile is quite nice; he should smile more often. Of course, then he'd be beating off the women in WindHawk's employ with a baseball bat. "I don't mind, Mrs. Sadih. After all, it's in my contract that I accompany you at all times when Mr. Sadih is away."_

_I fill my oversized mug with the dark brew, pouring one for my bodyguard as well, and cross over to where he sits at his own desk. "Maybe, but you really don't have to stay in here to cover my back, do you?" I pointedly look out the large window at the bright moonshine outside. "I wouldn't be in here if I had a choice. Seems like I've been here all damn day." I hand him the extra coffee cup, nearly dropping it._

_"Mrs. Sadih? Lee? What's wrong?"_

_"NO! Oh Gods, NO!" I collapse, the pain ripping through my heart and soul like an explosion, my hands going to my bare neck._

_"Lee?! Are you all right? What's happening?" I can barely feel LaFollet's hands on my shoulders. Searing pain shoots through me as my connection with Azir is being torn asunder! I know not how long I lay there, curled into a tight ball, tears falling down my face while Jan-Michel tries to figure out what's happened to me._

_I feel battered, as if I had stood, naked, in the path of a hurricane, but I finally pull myself off the floor. I rise unsteadily to my knees as the ancient prayers fall from my lips. "Hades! Hear my plea, take my husband unto your bosom. Grant him a place of honor in your hallowed halls! And prepare a place for me as well!"_

_"Lee? What language is that? What's going on?" I grasp Jan's hands in mine and stare into his worried hazel eyes._

_"Jan, Azir is dead."_

_His cell phone rings right after I say those dreaded words. Not his WindHawk phone, but the one that I know he carries as my Watcher. "LaFollet. Yes. Oh dear, God! Are you sure? Could you tell who he was? Damn! No! Get out of there! You know the rules!" He shuts down the connection, and I see tears starting to build. "Lee, I don't know how you knew, but Azir was just taken out of the Game."_

_I nod, swallowing hard to try to loosen my throat enough to speak. "How?" The word comes out in a strangled sob._

_"Immortal. Shot him, then took his head while he was out." He kneels beside me, hugging me close to him, offering comfort. "It was a head-hunter, Lee."_

The trilling chirp of my satellite phone interrupts my fruitless search for Bradley Ventriss. I just don't know this city like I should, despite my map studies. Pulling over to the shoulder of the road, I answer the phone just before my voice mail could pick it up. "What?"

"Bad day, Eolia?" The voice of my other boss, the Deputy Director -- Operations, Llewyllyn Huddleston, comes over the line.

"Lew. You could say that. Do you have that info I asked you for on Ventriss?"

"Sorry, no, still working on it. But I found a place for you, a post that fits the requirements you asked for. I know I said I was going to give you some time, but I need you to report for duty at The Farm in two weeks. We need to upgrade your status and check to see if you still have current knowledge of the language you'll need."

Leaning forward until my head rests on the steering wheel, I sigh, accepting the inevitable. "Two weeks, the Farm. Just where are you sending me, Lew?"

"Bonfarkar, Egypt." There is just the slightest trace of a smile in his voice.

"Christ! Lew, when I said BFE, I didn't mean it literally!"

"You didn't?" He chuckles. "Then it's a quirk of fate that the opening there came up and the position needs someone with your skills to fill it."

"My skills? Oh great! So just who am I supposed to get close to and worm information out of?" To be honest, that is only one of my skills but it seems the most likely one Llewyllyn would have need of.

"Not those. Be prepared to get 'wet' again. You'll be part of a team that will be going into Israel -- if needed -- in about a month."

A month? The President was talking about going to Israel in January; guess that means I'll be doing front work for the Secret Service again. "Fine, Lew. I understand. I'll see you in ten days. Thanks for the assignment." 

Before the man can respond to my sarcastic tone, I shut down the link between us. I'm not happy. I never should've volunteered to go active again -- especially once I realized that my heart was turning traitor on me. Damn it! Checking to see that the traffic is clear, I pull back out on the road. I need to go back, to face Diandra and Sandburg, to find Jan-Michel and let him know that he cannot follow me to Egypt. And I need to talk to Jim.

* * *

Nearly an hour had passed before Blair felt the rush of warmth through Diandra's body that signaled her return. Her head went back in an autonomic response, air filling her lungs with a gasp. Her eyes snapped open, and she struggled in his arms before his voice reassured her she was safe. "Dee, baby, it's okay. You're safe. You made it to the loft."

"No! Immortal! I need to--" Her hand went inside her tattered coat for her katana. "My blade! I need my sword!"

"Easy, easy, it's right here. I've kept watch. He hasn't come back. We're safe." Her gaze finally focused on his face, the confusion clearing from her eyes. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she hung on with a death grip, and he could feel her shaking against him. With a jolt, Blair realized she was afraid, and with good reason. The other Immortal's attack on her was probably the closest she'd come to losing her head in years. 

She clung to him for a few minutes, then he sensed her steel herself, forcing her fears down as she exhaled and let go of him. "Oh, goddess, Lobo, I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, taking a good look at him.

Blair glanced down at himself, realizing for the first time he was covered in her blood. "Oh, god-- " He fought down the urge to be sick. 

Getting to her feet, Dee held her hand out to him. "Come on, let's go get cleaned up." Taking her hand, Blair let her pull him up from the floor. As she tugged him gently toward the stairs she asked, "Where are Lee and Jan-Michel?"

Sighing, he answered, "I'll tell you in the shower."

* * *

"So you threw her out?" Dee asked as she ran a brush through her wet hair.

"Yes, I threw her out. I was scared, Dee, and she's been lying to us all along. I couldn't let her hurt you, or Jim, or Megan. So I did the only thing I could think of, I told her to leave."

Turning around on the vanity stool, Dee gazed up at her lover, trying to imagine him with her katana in hand, screaming at Lee to get out. It wasn't a big stretch. It touched her deeply. "Thank you," she finally managed. "I know how difficult this has been for you. I'm sorry my past has come back to hurt you, to hurt us."

Shaking his head, Blair approached her, laying his hands on her shoulders. "Shit happens, Dee. This time it was someone you knew. Last time it was my enemy. Hell, it was Brad who shot you, so I don't think we can totally blame this on Eolia. She's just guilty of the sin of omission. He was the one who got this whole ball rolling when he attacked her at QuestScape."

She planted a kiss on the inside of his wrist. "Then in order to end this, we have to find him." Looking up, she caught his eyes. "You think you can handle that?"

"Yeah, but first, I think we need to handle a little cleaning. Jim's gonna freak if you left as much blood in the hallway as you did in the studio."

Dee chewed her lip and dropped her gaze. "Uh, actually, I came in through the window in your bedroom. Your place is pretty much trashed."

"Oh, man, Dee! Jim's gonna blame me, you know that!" She knew he was teasing from his grin. "Come on, let's get dressed and get started. I think there's some plywood in the basement."

* * *

Jim Ellison slowly pulled his body up the stairs towards his apartment, the day having taken its toll on him. The city had requested that all available personnel come into their offices as soon as they could. When Jim had reported in at seven AM, Captain Simon Banks had assigned him to assist Communications by taking all the lesser incident calls that had started to flood the switchboards before the early morning news had been broadcast. For five hours he'd taken down the information from callers who had tried to drive on roads not yet cleared by the city's road department and had gotten into minor fender-benders with fellow daredevils. Then there had been the calls from people who wanted to know what roads were cleared and if they could make it to the local malls for their last minute Christmas shopping. 

He'd protested the assignment, asking Simon to let him go out with the patrols that had to work the streets undermanned. He'd been shot down when he was forced to reveal he didn't know if Blair was coming in to the station, and Simon had informed him that Megan wasn't sure she'd be able to make it in herself until the afternoon. Without a Guide, the man reasoned, he couldn't allow Jim to work in the field. The clouds had cleared away, making for near white out conditions, and Simon just hadn't been sure his detective could handle the potential sensory overload without a guide. He was just too busy himself to help him, so Jim had gotten stuck on the phones.

The metallic, cloying smell of blood assailed him as he approached the last few stairs leading to the third floor. Instincts taking over, Jim pulled his sidearm and cautiously took the remaining stairs, his senses wide open, looking for the source of the odor.

Focusing in on the floor that ran between his loft and Diandra's, he found the minuscule remains of blood. Someone had tried to clean it up, but he not only saw it, he could smell it, and judging by the smear of nearly invisible blood on the brass handle of Dee's place, it looked like who ever had been bleeding like a slaughtered animal had come from his place. 

Dialing up the sensitivity of his hearing, he listened for signs of life in either apartment and found none. Sliding up to the door to 307, he saw it hadn't been properly shut. Toeing the door open, he waited to see if anyone responded to the creaking of the hinges, then entered. 

The trail of blood, and there was a lot to follow, showed the halfhearted attempt someone had made to clean it up, but what chilled him is where it led him to: Blair's room. Fear took a firm grasp on Jim's heart and all reason flew out the window. 

Entering the room through the closed off French doors, the Sentinel nearly gagged from the odor of the spilled blood saturating the glass-covered floor. Swallowing hard to keep the bile from triggering his gag-reflexes, he spotted the obviously hurried patch job that had been done to the window that led to the fire escape. Plywood covered the opening. "Dial back, Jim. Sift through the data that your senses are supplying and disregard what you think you know." The voice of his Shaman rang through his head, automatically centering the Sentinel, allowing him to open up his onboard Forensic Lab.

The blood-smell didn't have the unique tinge he associated with his Guide, therefore it had to be someone else's. For that person to have made it from the fire escape, through plate glass, then across the hall to Diandra's place, the victim had to have been an Immortal. Changing his focus, the soft sound of footsteps reached his ears and Ellison came out of his partner's room, gun up and automatically tracking the intruder.

Ellison waited patiently as the door to his home was slowly opened. The flash of auburn hair as the intruder did a tuck and roll evading maneuver to the other side of the couch made him think of Megan, until the subject came up on their knees with their gun pointed at him.

"Jim!"

Reflexes almost made him pull the trigger, which would have placed a 9mm shell directly into the heart of Lee Eolia. Bringing his own gun back up towards his shoulder, he watched as the small woman let go of her revolver, letting it spin downward on her trigger finger. "Lee, damn it I nearly shot you! Why did you come in like that? What happened here? Where the hell is Blair?"

The recipient of his rapid-fire questions rose to her feet, sliding her handgun into the fanny-pack strapped to her waist with one hand, while brushing loose hair from her face with the other. "I wasn't sure what to expect, Jim. Not after someone tried to kill Diandra earlier." 

"What!?" the irate detective yelled as he made his way across the floor, intending to brush aside the security consultant on his way to the door, but the firm grip on his forearm stopped him.

"Jim! She's okay, so is Sandburg." 

Focusing tightly on the petite redhead, Jim started to use his senses, checking her reactions to her statement and the questions he was about to ask her. "Fine. So tell me, Lee. What the hell happened?"

"I think who ever it is that has been targeting me since Friday night tracked me and/or LaFollet here, and Diandra got in their way. Luckily, she managed to get away, but... " She dropped her eyes. "Oh, Goddess! Jim, Blair watched as Diandra died in his arms."

Jim felt his heart nearly crash to a halt. The pain his Guide must have gone through, even knowing that his lover couldn't really die, must have nearly killed the empathic young man. Shaking his head, he directed Lee to sit on the couch. "What happened next?"

Biting her lip, Lee explained how LaFollet had bolted out of Diandra's loft, hoping to catch the person who had shot the older Immortal, and how, in a classic fight or flight response, she herself had taken off before Diandra had recovered. "I was upset, thinking that I had somehow brought harm to Diandra's doorstep. In doing that, I nearly caused your partner to lose his lover." 

Gently reaching out to brush away the few tears that had fallen from Lee's eyes as she told the story, Jim made a decision. "Lee, I doubt that Diandra would hold what happened to her against you, but let's practice a little common sense here." He waited until she nodded, then dared to look him in the eye. "First, let me call my captain. Then after I talk with him, we'll go over to Diandra's, pack a few things for you, then get you to a safe house."

* * *

The words echo through my head, and I cringe inside. _"I doubt that Diandra would hold what happened to her against you... "_ No, but your partner does. And damn well he should! I'm really starting to hate myself. I've slipped back into the game I was trained in by the Company. Lies fall from my lips so easily. I sit back on the couch while Jim places a call to his captain, making the necessary arrangements to set me up in a safe house for at least one, maybe two, nights. 

"Thanks, Simon. Before I let you go, sir, I have a request-- " I watch as Jim suddenly pulls the receiver from his ear, then winces as if he could still hear something over the phone, even though he's holding it at arm's length. Finally, he places the phone back to his ear. "I know, Simon, I owe you and it'll be a big one for the favor I'm about to ask. Don't tell anyone, and I mean anyone, where I'm taking Ms. Eolia." The captain must have yelled again, Jim's face just screwed up into a painful grimace. "No, I'm not suggesting that there's a leak at the station. I'm just saying that the fewer people who know about Eolia's whereabouts, the safer she'll be. No, sir. I hate keeping anything from him, but it's for Sandburg's safety as well. Yes, I realize the spot I'm putting you in. Thank you, Simon. I'll be by to pick up the keys in about half an hour." He hangs up the phone.

"You shouldn't keep secrets from your partner, Jim." Shit, who am I to offer such advice?

"I'll call him later to let him know I'm okay." He gestures for me to stay put as he runs up the stairs by the outer wall.

"What if someone decides to tap his phone?" Gods, how many times have I done just that to find my targets? I'm so sick of playing that particular game. I want out, now, damn it. I sigh as I realize I can't just give up the life I've led for so long. Not after Llewyllyn has found me an assignment in exchange for the information he gave me. 

"I'll use a cutout," his voice drifts down to me from above. "We've used them before in situations like this, so there's little chance we'll be tracked." I turn around to see him coming back down the steps, a small overnight bag clutched in one hand, and what looks to be a rifle case in the other. "Let's get your stuff, then I'll follow you to the station."

How many times have I done the cut and run? Saigon. Yeah, did it there. Had to after helping Azir break into the French Consulate. Germany. Got shot while helping the underground resistance set the explosives on the bridge that was to have taken Rommel out. Argentina. After discovering who my husband and I helped get into that country, I couldn't live with myself. Then there was Mycinia. I had tired of my Teacher, of masquerading as his wife and using my feminine wiles against his enemies for seven decades. I 'killed' him one night, fleeing the city/state in the darkness and praying the entire time that I'd never have to face Methos in a Challenge. I've done it so many times, in so many countries over the years, that I've learned to travel extremely light. I'll either come back for the rest of my stuff later, or beg Diandra to send them to me. But if she's half as pissed off at me as I think she will be, she'll probably burn it all.

LaFollet still hasn't shown up before Jim and I leave, so the detective leaves a note for him, pinned to the door of apartment 308. I don't even ask what it says, trusting the man to say the right things to put my bodyguard at ease. I pull into the garage by the Central Precinct, Jim's truck right on my back bumper, less than an hour after I returned to Diandra's home. I manage to find an open slot, two of them actually, and park the Lexus.

Before I can even open the car door, Jim's there, bags in hand, and helping me out. I understand we're to change vehicles, just in case anyone was watching us when we left Jim's building. I grab up the large backpack I had packed, allowing the detective to escort me through the garage to the elevators and up to his department. Setting his bags down by his desk, he motions for me to take a seat while he walks towards his commander's office.

* * *

Captain Simon Banks looked up at the perfunctory knock on his door in time to see Ellison walk in without being invited. "Shut the door, Jim." Waiting until the man was standing in front of his desk, Simon tossed the detective two sets of keys. "The first two are to a cabin just outside of town that no one knows I inherited a year ago. Not even Daryl knows about it yet."

"Thanks, Captain. I promise, I'll take good care of the place and you'll never even know that I was there." 

Simon snorted. "Just as long as you don't blow it up like you did my one in Seacouver." Flipping a paper around so that Jim could read it, he said, "Sign that. I'll keep it here in my safe until you give the other set of keys back to me in a few days." 

"A waiver?"

"I ought to make you sign one for the cabin. Jim, the way you drive, it's the only way I was able to convince the sergeant in charge of the motor pool to release the Jeep Cherokee." Simon held up a hand before the man could protest. "Before you ask, no I didn't tell Sergeant Foley why you needed to use the Jeep."

Jim signed the insurance waiver, a promise to the department that he'd pay for any damage to the borrowed vehicle out of his own pocket if needed. Handing the paper back to his captain, he asked, "So, do I get a map to this new cabin of yours, or do I have to use my sentinel skills to try and find it?"

Chuckling, Simon reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a sector map with the route to his cabin already marked on it. Then, before handing it over to the sentinel, he pulled it back. "Maybe I should let you try to find it on your own, Jim. Make it one of those tests that Sandburg is always making you do that you pretend to hate so much." When the detective smiled, he handed over the map. 

"When did you figure that out, Simon?" Jim took the map, studied it, then folded it and placed it in his coat pocket.

"What? That you really don't mind the tests the kid comes up with?" The captain grinned evilly as he pulled his afternoon cigar out of the case that his son had given him for his birthday. "When I see you putting what he's taught you to good use and you find the needle in the haystack of evidence that brings a perp down."

"Busted. Just don't tell Sandburg." 

"Do I look like I have a death wish, Ellison?" Simon didn't even wait for the man to answer before making shooing motions. "Now, get out of here. And Jim?" The sentinel turned to look at him before he opened the door. "Watch your back."

"I will, sir."

Jim closed the office door and made his way back towards Lee and his desk. "It's all set. Let's go." Grabbing up his bags, handing hers to her as she stood up, they started to leave the bullpen, only to run into Megan by the elevators.

"Going somewhere, Jimbo?" The Australian's eyes widened slightly as she spotted the diminutive redhead behind him. One eyebrow shot up. "Not exactly the best place to start out on a date."

The door to the elevator opened up and the detective guided his protected witness into the car, holding the door open long enough to glare at Megan and reply to her hidden allegation. "It's not a date, Connor." Letting go of the door, the steel closed off what ever answer the woman had been about to say. But he still heard her anyway.

"Yeah, right. Overnight packs and a lovely gell?" Megan muttered under her breath as she pivoted angrily and headed into Major Crimes. Her reaction to Jim's catting around with a witness, or a possible suspect, bothered her. God, what if there was something to what Sandy had said earlier? No, she refused to believe that. She was free to date whomever she wanted and so was Jim. Pushing images of Jim spending a romantic evening with Lee Eolia out of her mind, she went back to work.

* * *

The drive out to the rustic cabin is anything but restful. I'm still puzzled by Jim's actions while on the phone to his captain. It reminded me of something, but what? If the drive had been a bit longer, I might have found the answer in the dark tunnels of my mind, but it wasn't. Less than an hour after leaving the police garage in a fully equipped Jeep, Jim turned off the main road and shortly pulled up to the cabin.

The snow which had fallen last night and this morning has left the surrounding woodland covered in a soft blanket of white, and the peace and serenity of the place settles my nerves. Carefully leading the way from the car to the door, Jim's long legs make short work of the six inch deep, ice encrusted snow. 

The temperature in the cabin is just as cold as the outside, but without the wind that is gusting from the sea, it seems a bit warmer. Noticing a light switch, I flip it and the place is lit up by the soft glow of lights from a few overhead fixtures. "This is a safe house?" I ask as I cross the wooden floor to an overstuffed leather couch and drop my bag on the hand-hewn coffee table.

Jim drops his two bags by the door before answering me. "Not really. It's my captain's hideaway spot. Far enough from the city to allow him the illusion of solitude, yet close enough that he can respond within twenty minutes if he's needed back at the station." He's opening the door again, the wind howling through the gap. "I'll be right back, I'm going to grab some more firewood." With a flurry of blowing snow and a slam, he's gone.

Taking in my surroundings, I spy the small pile of wood near a large woodstove and decide to make myself useful. Besides, I'm actually starting to get chilled. Using the smaller pieces of wood as kindling, I manage to get the fire started. By the time Jim returns, the fire is blazing and pumping heat into the room. He's carrying a heavy load of amazingly dry wood, and I help him place the fuel in a stack near the stove.

"Thanks for starting that." I watch as he holds his hands out over the hot stove, trying to warm them up.

"You're welcome." I push away the desire to help him warm up, instead crossing over to the small kitchen. I start to explore the cabinets. A few minutes later, I return to the stove and place a large kettle, filled with water, on top to heat. "I found some teas and a wonderful selection of coffees in there," I point back into the kitchen. "Which would you prefer?"

"Whatever." I watch as he strips out of his heavy coat, amazed that he can do so since the room is still quite cold to me, and tosses the leather toward the couch. "You really don't have to do anything, Lee. I'm supposed to be the one taking care of you." 

"Maybe I just need to do something." I shrug deeper into my coat. I'll have to wait until later to remove it, since I sure as heck don't need Jim to discover I hid my zaitoichi sword in it. "I'm just not used to being sequestered." I turn my back to him, ready to go digging further through the kitchen, only to have him place strong, gentle hands on my shoulders.

"Lee, it's for your own good." He turns me around and I find myself looking up into those incredible blue eyes of his. "I've seen some of what you can do, what you're capable of. But this person has tried to kill you twice. They killed one of your bodyguards, brought LaFollet into the world of the long lived, and would've killed Diandra if she hadn't been Immortal."

I drop my gaze. "I know, Jim. I never would've stuck around if I thought there was a chance I'd bring harm to others." For the first time in many centuries, I feel soiled by what I've done all my life. I want to tell him, I really do, but how does one tell a person you hardly know that you're immortal? That you've been a spy, an agent provocateur, longer than he's been alive?

"Let's get your stuff put up in the bedroom, and then I'll see what the captain left around here in the way of food." I allow Jim to give me a gentle shove towards the hall off the living area. I stop only long enough to pick up my backpack, then go in search of the room.

Like I've been trained to do, I scan my new environment -- looking for possible escape routes, items that can be turned into emergency impact weapons, things of that nature. My surveillance is rewarded in a way I didn't expect. I find a carefully concealed thermostat. Grinning, I switch the heater on and follow the sounds to a gas-fired furnace. After ducking back into the living area for the long matches that I'd used to light the wood stove, I light the pilot light. With the temperature set to 70 degrees, I'm hoping the cabin will heat up soon. I find not one, but two bedrooms in the back of the log home, as well as the bathroom. One of the rooms has a large bed in it, the smaller room has a double, and I opt for the smaller of the two. 

Stepping back out to the living area after I've shed my coat and hidden my sword, I find Jim in the kitchen putting something together on the gas range.

"I get the idea that you found a heating unit?" I smile as I nod, carrying the matches back to their home by the wood-burning stove. "Good. I've started a small stew. Should be ready in about an hour."

"It smells good so far." I test the kettle and, finding it hot enough, carry it into the kitchen where I spot two large mugs with tea bags in them. "I take it you decided you wanted tea?" I quip as I pour the nearly boiling water into the cups.

"Yeah, just seemed right." 

Placing the kettle on the counter top, I nearly jump out of my skin when a loud snapping noise sounds just outside the cabin. I'm still wearing my fanny pack and am reaching for my Lady Smith when he stops me.

"Lee? It was just a tree branch falling." His hands go around my waist. I feel him unsnap the strap of my waist bag and then he's holding it. "Why don't you put this on the table?"

I nod, taking the bag from his hand, and cross back over to the coffee table. "I can't believe I'm so jumpy."

"All the more reason to have your gun on the table where I can see it." He follows me into the living area, and we sit down on the couch, together, but not. There has to be nearly 12 or more inches separating us. "Don't be ashamed of your reactions. I'd probably be skittish, too, if I'd gone through what you have in the last few days."

Curling both my hands around the warmth of the mug, I sip at the tea carefully, then hold the heat in my lap. "I'm not usually this bad. Too much training."

"Training?" He's looking at me with those light blue eyes that seem to bore right into my soul. I need to tell him. If he can handle that truth, then maybe he'll be able to handle the rest.

"At The Farm. I'm a NIO, Jim. Have been for years."

* * *

Dee pulled her Wagoneer into the parking lot behind 852 Prospect, cocking her head to one side slightly, checking to make sure the area was safe. Satisfied, she turned off the engine and glanced over at Blair. "Any luck?"

Shaking his head, he clicked off his cell phone. "I don't understand it. Rafe said Jim left a couple hours ago. He should be home by now. I left a message on his voice mail on both his work phone and his cell. I have a bad feeling about this, Dee."

Closing her eyes, she stretched out her hearing again, feeling Blair's hand covering hers where it rested on the seat, giving her an anchor. "There's no one upstairs." Giving his fingers a squeeze, she opened her eyes. "Come on, let's go pack a couple things and see if he left you a note or anything. Then we can swing by the station and beg Megan to put us up for the night. I'm just not comfortable staying here, now that Ventriss knows where to find us."

When they got off the elevator on the third floor, both of them spotted the envelope thumb-tacked to Diandra's door. "What the hell?" Removing the tack, Dee opened the envelope and pulled out the sheet of paper within, ignoring the fact that it was clearly addressed to "LaFollet" on the outside. 

Peering over her shoulder at the single sheet of paper, Blair said, "That's Jim's handwriting." He read the short note out loud. "I've taken Lee to a safe house for the night. She'll call you once she's settled. Ellison."

"Spare and efficient as usual. Just enough to tell us nothing. I'm going to wring his neck." Dee unlocked the door to her place as Blair tacked the note back up. 

"Do you suppose Lee told Jim what happened? Reading between the lines there, I'd say she only gave him the bare bones and conveniently forgot this afternoon's incident was a direct result of her lies." 

Dee shrugged. "Probably. From what you've found out, I don't think Lia's told the truth in a long time. I think you may be right about her having lived in the shadows for too long. But she still has her own code of honor, Lobo, even though it's not the same as yours or mine. And she genuinely cares about Jim. She won't harm him."

"I know you're right, but I'd still feel better if I knew where they were. I'm going to run across the hall and see if Jim left me a note there. I'll pack a bag, too."

Dee remained in the living area for a moment, listening to Blair enter the apartment next door and start to rummage through his room, cursing at the glass that was still scattered everywhere. With a smile and a mental note to herself to pick up a shop-vac the next day, she headed upstairs to her bedroom.

Coming back downstairs a few minutes later, she was just selecting a few extra goodies from her weapon collection when she felt the unmistakable buzz of an approaching Immortal. The sound of the door to her loft being tried reached her ears, and she drew her sword, crossing to press against the wall next to the door. As it swung open, she waited until the other Immortal had crossed the threshold before lunging at him. The newcomer almost didn't catch her blade with his. Dee barely pulled her follow-up punch in time to avoid hitting LaFollet in the face. "Jan-Michel! Damn it, I could have killed you!"

"Diandra! Where in the hell is Eolia?" Backing off a few steps, he lowered his sword cautiously. 

She gave him a grim smile. "Didn't get a chance to read the note, I see."

His gaze dropped to the crumpled envelope in his hand. "No. I felt your buzz and thought maybe the note could wait."

"Good choice. Lia's with Ellison in a safe house, and before you ask, no, I don't know where. I just now got back and read it myself."

He looked back up at her, his expression puzzled. "Where did you go?"

Her lips pulled back over her teeth transforming her tight smile into a snarl. "Blair and I went hunting, but we didn't find the Immortal who attacked me. Did you have any luck?"

Jan shook his head. "No. I called in some favors from some fellow Watchers too, but no one knows this guy, or where he's staying. I came back to see if Lee had found anything out."

"From what I understand, she didn't stick around much longer than you did. She and Blair had a disagreement over who exactly was responsible for the attack on me, and he tossed her out. Since the two of you come as a matched set, I'm going to have to ask you to leave, too, LaFollet. It's too dangerous for any of us to stay here at the moment. I'll give you five minutes to pack your things."

Nodding, the ex-SEAL replied, "I understand, Diandra. I won't take long." He headed across the studio and down the short hallway to the room he'd been using. 

With a sigh, Dee tucked her katana away in her mid-length leather jacket and went back to packing weapons.

* * *

Blair tossed a couple pairs of clean boxers and socks into a duffle bag, along with some tees, flannel shirts and a pair of jeans. He grabbed his toothbrush and shaving stuff from the bathroom, then wandered back through the kitchen. There was no note left in its customary place on the fridge, and he'd already checked the answering machine. He was going to kill Jim. How moving Eolia to a safe house had taken precedence over checking to make sure his Guide was okay after viewing the mess in the loft was a mystery to Blair. Under normal circumstances, Jim would have been frantic until he'd laid eyes on Blair, needing to ascertain for himself that his friend was unharmed.

The fact that he wasn't here, that he hadn't called, indicated to Blair that Lee must have fed him a string of lies. She surely hadn't mentioned the fact that Dee's attacker had been Brad Ventriss, or that he was immortal. If Jim had known that, there was no way he would have left until the little bastard was behind bars. Or at least that was what Blair hoped. It was way too painful to think that Jim had chosen to go with her knowing the truth.

Hoisting his backpack onto the dining table, Blair dug through it, pulling out books and papers he wouldn't need. His hand closed around the folder holding the information he'd gathered on Eolia, the Watchers files, the CIA stuff from Jack Kelso, and his notes on the case for Brad Ventriss being immortal. He stared at it for a moment, trying to decide what to do. The image of Dee staggering across her loft toward him, blood pouring from her wounds flashed in his mind's eye. "That could have been Jim," he whispered, his words echoing in the empty loft.

Ripping a blank page out of one of his notebooks, Blair scribbled a hasty summary of what had happened that day, and Lee's part in it. Folding it into thirds, he wrote Jim's name on it and laid it on top of the folder, centering the file on the table where Jim would be sure to see it. Zipping up his pack and grabbing the duffle bag, Blair exited the loft.

As he closed the door behind him, a small gust of wind swirled around the edges of the plywood covering the window in his room. The folded piece of paper slid across the table, drifting slowly to the floor, a second blast of cold air sending it scooting under the edge of the sofa.


	8. Chapter 8

Jim sat back on the couch, staring at the young woman seated next to him, the one who didn't look old enough to have been a National Intelligence Officer for years. "The Farm? You mean the CIA's training facility in Virginia?"

"Yes." She angled her body a little bit on the seat, halfway turning to face him. "Jim, when I met Azir, he was already an agent, and after a while, I decided to join up as well."

"Why?"

She quirked an oddly sad smile. "Because the Company prefers its field officers to have partners or spouses they can trust. Besides, who would suspect a young couple of being intelligence officers? Especially if one is listed as an Embassy attaché while the other was listed merely as a secretary?"

He had to admit it did make sense. His own experiences with spooks like Lee Brackett, and the one who had done the piss-poor pre-mission brief for his insertion team in Peru, had left Jim with a sense of foreboding when it came to any federal agent, be they CIA or FBI. He was brought back from his mental wanderings as Lee stood up. "Lee?"

"You need to think about what I told you, Jim. I think it's warmed up enough in here now. I really want to try to relax." She placed her empty mug on the table. "I think I'll see if there's any hot water in the tank, then take a shower."

Jim watched as she disappeared down the hall. Draining off the last of his own tea, he stood up, collected the mugs in one hand and returned to check on the progress of the stew he'd started. The idea that Lee Eolia and her husband had been, or in Lee's case may still be, involved in the CIA brought a few old fears of his rising to the surface. Having worked covert operations, he knew if you were going to work your way in close to a target, you didn't move fast. In most cases, you took your time, up to a year, to get close to your target, mainly to make them more comfortable with you as their newfound friend, before you asked anything too detailed from them. Field craft was the way you managed to get your information, the way you passed it on to your contacts, all neatly lined out in such a way you never really knew who was handling your assignment. That way, in case something went down -- like getting your cover blown to hell -- there was no one you could name to the enemy.

Five days since he met her, five days. Too fast for her to be part of some larger operation to get close to him, or to Blair, so maybe she was just what she appeared to be: a mere victim of circumstance, a part-time NIO for the CIA, and the owner and President of WindHawk Securities, International. Tasting the broth, he decided to add a little more pepper to the mix that he'd thrown together from various canned goods before grabbing another mug of tea for himself. He'd just settled back down on the couch when the sound of the shower greeted his sensitive ears.

* * *

The shower I take does wonders to decrease the tension in my back and dressing in my faded blue jeans and a heavy green sweatshirt emblazoned with the logo of WindHawk helps me to relax further. While I was in the shower, Jim finished up the stew he concocted and he also managed to find a small radio somewhere. 

While we eat, Jim takes the time to reassure me that my past, or future, with the Company doesn't really bother him, but I sense that maybe he isn't being entirely truthful. I tell him that while I was ready to tell the Agency to shove off, I have also requested an assignment that could very well take me out of country. Llewyllyn Huddleston has managed to find me such a post, and I have to take it, if only to honor my word to the DDO.

Jim insists on cleaning up the kitchen himself, and I use the time to myself to meditate. I really feel pressured to get back into top form, and meditation, followed by a few katas in the room I picked out, would help me to get there. I am halfway through my last routine when a soft knocking on the bedroom door allows me half a second to compose my thoughts before my latest watchdog walks in.

"You doing okay, Lee?"

"Yeah. Just trying to work through a few things in my mind." I watch him closely as he leans that strongly built body against the doorframe.

"Like what?" 

Damn, he's doing it again, that head cocking motion which had intrigued me earlier. Could it be? Only one way to find out. "I've been watching you, Jim. I've seen you do something that tells me that I'm in the presence of one of two things." He doesn't answer aloud, just raises that eyebrow of his in askance. "You're either a psychic, or you have a highly tuned sense of hearing." 

"Why do you say that?" 

"Because I worked on a team while on hiatus from the Company that was studying such things."

"Psychics, or the other one?" 

"Heightened senses." Okay, that does it. The blood nearly rushes from his face.

My eyes pop open in amazement when he starts to laugh. "Heightened senses? That's a good one. Never heard of the government looking into that."

"It's true! I personally tested four subjects with heightened hearing. They all had one thing in common -- they'd tilt their heads towards whatever they were to listen for and then parrot what they heard." Even as I let the words out, I realize if Jim does have exceptional hearing, it's heightened to a degree I never saw before.

"Okay, I guess I can tell you. After all, you spotted the signs and told me of your involvement in the CIA. I test out at near ultrasonic levels for sound detection. Dog whistles nearly drive me to my knees."

I hold my breath, shocked that this man who barely knows me has just given me a weapon to use against him. Good thing my old training agent is no longer in the service or Jim would come under very close scrutiny by one Lee Brackett. "How do you cope with it?"

He shrugs, then motions for me to follow him back out to the living area as he explains. "I've learned to tune out most things. Sandburg's helped me in that area. He's helped a number of people do the very same thing. He's quite good at teaching others, especially stubborn cops."

I follow him out of my room, wondering what could be going through his mind. Maybe telling him of my association with the Company wasn't such a good idea. No, I had to tell him. It would be seriously unfair to the man if I am to get involved with him, only to have the phone ring some day and then disappear on him. I don't want to hurt this man and by being up front with him from the beginning, then I protect him, right? 

The soft sound of music from the late 40's drifts to my ears as I enter the living room. My breath catches in my throat when I realize the only light illuminating the place is from the handful of candles he must have found somewhere. The fireplace is lit as well. "Jim?"

His expression is soft as he turns to face me. His eyes are thoughtful but not cold. "Lee, I won't lie to you. The idea that you're a spook, that you work for the CIA, bothers me. But I'm willing to try to live with it, as long as you don't try to pull me into it as well."

"I wouldn't do that" Well, if I needed a cover--

"You could, even if you didn't want to." Damn, maybe he is psychic. "I've dealt with the CIA before, and both times I came away from the experience with a bad taste in my mouth." He's reaching out to me, guiding me towards the couch, then pulls me down to sit beside him, holding me close. "I was once part of the Army's Seventh Group, Rangers. One of my last missions was conducted under less than ideal conditions and on bad intelligence the CIA had reportedly gathered for us. It went wrong, very wrong."

The pain in his voice, the haunted look in his azure eyes, nearly breaks my heart. How many of his team members died needlessly because of bad intel? "Jim, I understand. And I promise you, no matter what happens between us, I'll never allow the Company to pull you into the shadows." I'd rather take my own head before letting the assholes in Ops get a hold of this man. For some reason, I need to protect him from that type of exploitation. 

He hugs me closer and for a while we're content to just sit there, watching the fire dance in the fireplace, listening to soft music, holding each other close. Two trilling phones decide to interrupt our moment of mutual simplicity. 

One is ringing close by, on the end table beyond Jim. The other is chirping from the coffee table, where I had placed my waist bag earlier. Jim and I reach for our phones, barely pulling apart, but whoever is calling me hangs up before I can answer. I only get a dial tone and they didn't leave a voice mail. Oh, well. If it was important, they'll call back. 

"Ellison. Yeah, sorry, I meant to call you earlier, Captain. We got in about an hour or so ago." I clasp his hand, which is reaching out to me as he talks to his commander. "Oh? Was he hard to shake? Yeah, that sounds about right. He's tenacious-- What? She did? Oh, that's just great. Uh-huh. Sure, I'll be in in the morning, providing the weather holds, about nine. Yeah, I'll be there. No, I left a message for her bodyguard, and I'll have her contact him in a few minutes and ask him to meet us at the station. Thanks, Simon."

I'm curious, I'll admit that, but if I needed to know, I'm sure Jim would tell me. "I guess I need to call Jan-Michel?"

"Might want to."

"Okay." I pick up my satellite phone and get up off the couch. "I'll be right back." I look to see him staring at me. "Uh, if I do manage to get him on the line, he may need to have his feathers smoothed. I do that better without an audience." I start to walk back towards my room. "You told your Captain 0900 hours, right?"

"Yeah." I leave the room and, after closing the door to the smaller bedroom, I dial the familiar number. I'm connected to LaFollet's voice mail. "Jan? Lee. I'm okay. I know you must have gotten the note Ellison left. I just didn't want you to panic, or try to locate me. I'll be fine. Lay low. Keep your eyes open and your weapons handy. If you do manage to run into a problem, shoot first, run like hell, and we'll handle the rest later. Also, plan to meet me at the central precinct house, where Major Crimes is, at 0900 hours. Don't lose your head." I disconnect, making sure I send any incoming calls to my voice mail. I can't help but wonder where Jan-Michel has disappeared to. He made me a promise, and Diandra taught him the lesson, so I know that he's not out drinking. I hope.

* * *

Jim waited until he was sure Lee had closed the door of her room before picking up his cell phone again. Connecting to his voice mail service he listened to the one message logged there. "Jim, this is Blair. When you get this message, call me. I need to let you know what's going on here. Dee and I are safe, just in case you were worried. We're staying the night at Megan's. You got her number right? And watch your head."

Watch my head, Chief? You've been spending too much time with Dee and other Immortals and Watchers. Better get this out of the way. Dialing the familiar number, he sighed as he realized that he'd just been shunted over to Sandburg's voice mail. "Chief, I got the story from Ms. Eolia. I want you to know we're at the safe house. And it's better if you and Dee avoid the loft for a while. Staying with Connor is a good idea. I'll call you if anything happens. And before you start to worry that long-haired head of yours -- I spotted the tails that Simon sicced on me. Jorgenson and McMillian are good, but not good enough to hide from me. See you at the station tomorrow." 

He closed down the phone just as he heard the door to Lee's room open back up.

* * *

The living room is still bathed in fire glow when I return, and I have a hard time spotting him at first. He's over by the wood stove, closing the door after checking on the banked fire. "Did you get a hold of him?"

"No. I got his voice mail. I left a message." I cross the hardwood floor, only to be intercepted by my guardian. "Jim?"

"Would you be willing to at least think about coming back to Cascade, after you return to New York?"

What is he asking? "Jim, I'm not sure I'm ready to commit to that just yet."

"Not ready to settle down again?" He reaches out and picks my hand up from my side. "I know you're still grieving Azir's death, but I'd like to know if I have a chance with you." 

I reach up to caress his face with my right hand. "You've always had a chance, Jim. I'll think about it."

He presses those sensual lips to my palm, and the fire that runs through my body is traitorous. "That's all I'm asking, Lee. Because, as shallow as this sounds, I'm not sure I could leave Cascade."

With a subtle dance move, I twist into his arms, his hands ending up on my shoulders, my back against his chest. "I would never ask you to leave your home. Besides, this was to be my last trip as President and CEO of WindHawk, so I could retire out here. But I have an assignment for the Agency to take care of first. I report in two weeks, but I could come back here when I'm through. If you want me to."

Lips lower to my neck, leaving a burning trail from behind my ear to my shoulder. "I think I would." Then I'm spun around to face him. "Now, since we've decided that you might just come back here, and we're both adults--"

"And there's no one for miles to barge in-- " My arms go around his neck.

"Exactly." His hands are on my hips, pulling me even closer to him.

"It really wouldn't be a one-night stand, now would it?" I'm on my toes, leaning in towards that wonderful hard body of his, my tongue coming out to lick my lips.

"My thoughts too." We move together in unspoken mutual agreement toward the couch, our hands beginning to explore, our mouths meeting in a kiss so deep my toes actually start to tingle with excitement, along with the rest of my body. It's been a while since I've felt this stirring in my gut, and I love it. Always have. If that makes me a whore, so be it, but I enjoy being a woman.

* * *

Megan looked up from her desk as her Champion stalked into Major Crimes, Blair practically trotting to keep up with her long strides. "Dee! Dee, hang on a minute! Think this through! You were calm about this ten minutes ago--"

"I had the drive over here to consider just how inconsiderate and insensitive Ellison's been today. We both have cell phones, answering machines, voice mail, email. Even a goddamn note addressed to either one of us would have been nice." Megan felt Dee's intense gaze fall on her, and Diandra changed course, heading toward her. "Pajara, have you seen Ellison?"

"Um, yeah, Dee. He was here about an hour ago, all packed for an overnight trip with Lee Eolia in tow. Why? What's happened?"

"Brad Ventriss," Blair broke in before Dee could speak. "That theory we had. It's not a theory anymore."

"Are you sure?" Megan rose from her seat, picking up on her friends' agitation.

"I'm sure," Dee hissed in a low whisper. "Six bullets in me sure. He's immortal, and he doesn't play by the rules."

"Dee! Oh my god!" From the look on Blair's face, Megan could see just how close she had come to losing her champion. She reached out to the older woman, for the first time since she had learned of Dee's immortality realizing there was a real possibility of Diandra being killed. She felt Dee pulling her into a tight hug, whispering reassurances.

"I'm okay, Pajara, truly. I'm just mad at Ventriss and Ellison and Eolia."

Megan stepped back to arms length. "Jim and Eolia? Why?"

"Dee was attacked outside the loft. She managed to climb up the fire escape and crash through the window into my room, then left a trail of blood across the hall to her place. There's no way Jim didn't notice it when he came home. And Eolia was there when it happened. I don't think she told Jim the truth, and she's been lying all along." Blair would have continued, but Simon walked into the bullpen at that moment.

Disentangling herself from Megan's grasp, Dee planted herself in the tall man's path. "Banks! Where is Ellison?"

Simon's expression turned wary, and he seemed little stunned at the Champion's commanding demeanor. "Detective Ellison is at a safe house. In order to keep him and Ms. Eolia safe, he asked that I not divulge the whereabouts to anyone. That includes you, Blair," he said, peering around Dee's imposing form at the anthropologist.

"Simon!" Blair cried.

"That does it. My office, all of you. You too, Connor." Once inside the office, Simon closed the door and pulled the blinds. "Now, are you questioning my authority in this?"

"No--" Megan began, just as both Dee and Blair said, "Yes!"

"Simon, how much did Jim tell you about what is going on?" Blair asked.

Pulling a cigar out his pocket, the captain prepared to light it. 

"I really wouldn't do that, if I were you," Dee said icily.

Simon looked from Megan to Blair. "Sandburg, Connor, can't you keep your Sentinels under control?" All three of them glared at him. He put the cigar away. "Fine. All Jim told me was your lofts had been broken into, presumably by the person who is after Ms. Eolia. They were no longer a safe place for her to stay. He asked for the use of a safe house and a car from the motor pool. I gave them to him, along with the promise to keep his location secret. You have a problem with that?"

Megan watched an entire conversation play out between Dee and Blair with just a glance. Finally, Diandra said, "We just want to make sure that all precautions have been taken, since you sent Jim to gods know where without his Guide."

"Yeah, Simon. What if he zones? And what if they were followed? That's how the killer found the loft; he followed one of us there." 

Banks leaned against the front of his desk and crossed his arms over his chest. "Well sure they were followed, Sandburg! I had an unmarked unit make sure they got to their location and that unit will be relieved of watchdog duties about four am. You think I'd let Jim go off totally on his own?"

"Well, we know how stubborn Jim can be, sir," Megan answered. 

"And we weren't sure how much he told you about what's been going on," Blair said. 

Simon gazed long and hard at each of them. "What is it the three of you aren't telling me? Is it more Sentinel/Guide mumbo-jumbo?"

"Yes," Dee replied quickly. "We were worried about Jim being all alone somewhere without a guide. However, you've reassured us he has the protection of the PD, and Ms. Eolia is a security expert. I suppose he's safe enough." She headed toward the door, looking back over her shoulder at Megan and Blair. "You two coming?"

"Sure, Dee." Blair followed his lover out the door, but Megan hesitated before leaving her superior's office. "May I go home, sir? Things have quieted down quite a bit, and I'm going to have to put those two up for the night."

Pulling his cigar from his pocket again, Simon waved it at her. "Go, go! And I don't envy you the rest of the night. Thank god they didn't ask to stay with me."

Crossing the bullpen to her desk, Megan gathered up her things. "Come on, let's go. I think you both have a lot of explaining to do." Once again the guide and champion exchanged cryptic looks. "And none of that telepathy stuff! If you're going to kick me out of my bed, I deserve to know what's going on."

Blair nodded, but he didn't look happy about it. Sighing, he said, "You'll get your explanation, but let's get out of here first." The trio left Major Crimes and headed for the elevator.

* * *

By mutual consent, we don't stay on the couch for very long. I'm not sure exactly how it happens, but I end up on the large bed in the room I didn't choose, wearing far less than I was. So is Jim. Oh Great Gods above! The man is gorgeous! From the top of his military haircut all the way down to his toes and everything in between! I think if the Gods I knew were to look upon this mortal before me, even Adonis and Apollo could find themselves in the grip of envy. 

His hands are expressive, tantalizing and very subtle. Feather light touches become passion inspired hardness. And his mouth! Eros! I reach out to him, pulling him from the attention he's paying to my abdomen, bringing him higher up on my body. Every cell is practically singing for release.

"Jim, please--" I'm begging, I know not what for, hoping that he understands.

"Lee, let me do this." Do what? Oh! I didn't believe it possible, but I'm melting even further as his mouth closes over mine. His wonderful hands work their own brand of magic as they soothe my quivering stomach. Then his mouth is gone, trailing a path of fire and moist heat from my chin to my shoulder, then down to my breast. He stops there for a moment, paying lavish attention to one nipple, before making sure its twin is not lonely for his touch very long, then the heat is moving further south. 

I'm lost, well and truly lost. If I don't get him right where I want him, I'm going to scream. I rise up on the bed, and he moves with me, making sure not to pin me down. "My turn, babe." His blue eyes lock with mine and I can see the concern in their depths. "Please, let me make you feel good." 

With gentle hands of my own, I direct him to lie back on the bed and I straddle his hips. I position my center over his groin, not allowing him in yet, and I start my own teasing. First, I knead the muscles of his chest, getting the reaction I desire as his nipples start to harden under my fingertips. I lean over him, placing kisses on those nipples. I work my way up, stopping only to barely nip at his shoulder, then I capture his delectable mouth in mine. Even as we deepen the contact between us, I feel, more than hear, the almost cat-like purr he's making. And the part of him that is responding to me, jumping and twitching against my core, tells me it's time.

"Jim--now--before I lose it completely-- "

"Yes--" That was a growl, a purring growl, which changes to a gasp as I slowly lower myself onto him. Yes, the attributes of his ancestor, if Ellison is indeed descended of Laird William McAlasdair, have been fully passed down through the generations. I can no longer hold back my own desire, and I start to move in a rhythm that is older than civilization. I use my hands to guide his fingers, caressing my body then his, as the beat of the dance starts to increase in tempo. 

Lost in the throes of passion, my head snaps back and forth on my neck, my long hair flying everywhere. Conscious movement becomes a thing of the past, beyond my control, and the pressure building up in my womb is intense. I'm barely aware of who my partner is, my mind filling my head with images of lovers and husbands of the past. Then I open my eyes. 

Our hands clasped tightly together, we both fight for control over our bodies. The noises coming from my throat are very basic, not words, not exactly purring, nor simple grunts either, but something much more. I barely manage to still my movements for a second, looking deep into the eyes of my lover -- eyes that once were a light blue, now darkened in passion to a color to rival the depth of the oceans. 

"Oh, god, don't stop, Lee. Not now!" I wriggle, feeling his shaft fill up my core with its hard length. Then I'm lost again, that slight move was the wrong thing to do, for the pace that my body is requiring is harder, faster than it had been.

"Now. Oh, Goddess! Jim! Please! Now!" 

The engulfing madness sends me into a tailspin, spiraling me into the near death of an orgasm so complete I nearly lose consciousness. Collapsing against his sweat-covered body, I can hear his heart thundering in his chest under my ear.

* * *

Unlocking her apartment, Megan swung the door wide, letting her companions enter first, watching Blair and Dee as they passed by her. They were still touching, his hand going to the small of her back to guide her in front of him. As far as she could tell, they hadn't lost contact with each other from the moment they had left the police station. In a way, it was kind of sweet, if you didn't know it was an unconscious response to what they had gone through that afternoon. When she put their gestures in that light, it was heartbreaking. Both of them were trying to hide it, but underneath the frustration and the anger, they were scared. And so was she.

"Just plop yourselves down anywhere," she said as she took their coats and hung them in the front closet. "Give me a minute or two to straighten up in the back, and then you can stow your gear. Sorry, I don't have much to offer in the way of food. I'm trying to clean out my fridge for the move up to Seacouver. Phone's in the kitchen, and there's a delivery menu on the fridge for the Chinese place down the block." She moved down the hallway to the bedroom, wondering if she had enough pillows.

Blair dropped onto the sofa cushion next to Dee after calling in the food order. He couldn't remember now what he had selected from the menu. They would probably end up with nothing but rice and egg rolls. Pulling the hair tie out of his ponytail, he leaned his head against the back of the couch, running his fingers roughly through his curls.

He glanced over at her. Her head rested against the sofa in almost the exact same position as his, her eyes closed, her face worn and tired. Not opening her eyes, she scooted closer to him, leaning her cheek on his shoulder. Several long seconds passed, then she said, "Ow."

"You okay?" he asked, concerned.

She wiggled around in her seat, her hand snaking behind her back. "Yeah, damn thing's poking me in the ribs."

Blair frowned, puzzled. "What thing?"

Dee's arm reappeared, and Blair's eyes widened at what she held in her hand. "This. I forgot how much I hate wearing a gun."

"That's not a gun, Dee, that's a cannon." He couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice. He hadn't even known she'd owned one.

Leaning forward, the Immortal laid the automatic in its belt holster on the coffee table. "The bigger the hole you put in an Immortal, the longer they stay down. I don't like carrying it, but right now I don't feel I have much choice. I have you and Megan and myself to think about. I'm going to take any damn advantage I can. And when I find Bradley Ventriss, I'm going to take his head."

Blair felt a shiver run through him at her words. This was the side of his lover that frightened him, the millennia-old Amazon warrior. He couldn't deny that that facet of her personality had come in handy; it had saved all of them from Cristo a little over a month ago. But to see that look in her eye--cold, relentless, deadly. He'd seen the same expression on Jim a few times, and felt the same thing in the pit of his stomach--dread. Part of him wondered if it was the sentinel part of them providing that ability to shut everything off to the exclusion of the mission, or if it was their military training. Or maybe it was just their fiercely protective instincts. Feeling the light pressure of her hand on his arm, Blair looked over at her.

"Sorry, baby, I don't mean to scare you. I just--" She shrugged. "I can't bear the thought of harm coming to you or Jim or Megan. I don't know what I would do without you." 

The image of her torn and bleeding body breathing its last in his arms washed over Blair. He'd felt that pain this afternoon, if only for a moment. He didn't ever want to put her through that. Pulling her into a hug, Blair held on tightly, feeling the hot sting of tears against his closed eyelids. 

"Okay, bedroom's all set..." Megan's voice trailed off as she caught sight of them. "Whoops, sorry, didn't mean to interrupt."

Pulling away from Blair, Dee shook her head, wiping at her eyes. "No, Pajara, you weren't. We're fine."

Megan walked the rest of the way into the living room and dropped into the chair opposite the couch. "No you're not, and I don't blame you. I'm jumping at shadows, and I only have your vague account of what happened to go on." She caught sight of the gun on the table. "Bloody hell! Since when did you start carrying a gun?" She picked it up, making sure the safety was engaged before removing it from the holster. "Desert Eagle, right? 50 millimeter rounds? Makes a frigging big hole, Dee."

Blair heard Dee sigh as she replied, "Before tonight, the last time I carried a gun full time was World War II."

"But I thought Immortals were forbidden to use firearms."

"Only when they're used to give us an advantage in the Game. I wouldn't be carrying one now, but-- fight fire with fire, as the saying goes." She was interrupted by a knock at the door. Blair turned his gaze on her, as did Megan. Dee laughed lightly. "It's okay. It's the food. I can smell it from here. What in the world did you order, Lobo?"

Shrugging, Blair gave her a sheepish grin and went to answer the door.

* * *

I awaken a short while later to movement against my thigh. Lifting my head, I see that Jim's not really awake, but a certain part of him certainly is. I feel the smile gracing my face grow wicked as it seeks to match the thoughts in my head. I move slowly, not wanting my prey to wake before I'm ready for him to. With a little pain, I'm settling back onto the shaft, using the muscles in my body to gently squeeze. Tighten, relax, tighten, tighten further, relax. Over and over, until he's awake.

"Insatiable aren't you?" His eyes snap open and lock with mine, just as his shaft bucks up inside of my channel. 

Feeling my juices starting to flow, I tighten as hard as I can against the muscle inside of me. Jim's gasp of pleasure/pain is the only response I get. "Very insatiable, Jim. I want you, and I always get my man."

Before I know what has happened, I'm on my back, looking up into his face. "Well, I hope you don't mind, but the way you woke me put ideas into my head." He's lifting my legs, draping them over his shoulders without ever losing our intimate contact, and then he's thrusting deeper than I thought imaginable into me. 

"Gods! Jim! Don't stop!" I can almost touch his hips with my hands, but fall just short. Frustrated beyond belief, I grasp the part of him that I can reach, rolling the sacs between my fingers, stroking along the shaft when he pulls back, only to slam back inside me.

"This is going to be close, Lee." I glance up at his face, contorted with the effort to hold back. Smiling I take my hand and grab his right one, guiding it to caress the part of me that is begging for attention.

"Touch me, Jim." And then he's using his callused thumb to stroke my passionate fire into a higher temperature zone. I'm burning, filled with a fire so deep I know I could die from the excitement. The scream ripped from my throat is matched by the growling groan from him as we both manage to climax at the same time.

* * *

Megan and Dee were putting up the remains of dinner in the kitchen, debating over whether or not it would get eaten over the holidays, and was it worth dirtying Tupperware to keep something in the fridge for a week and then throw it out. Blair smiled to himself as he flipped open his cell phone. If they weren't careful, they'd end up in the land of color-coded leftovers. The phone chirped and the voicemail symbol appeared on the screen. Maybe there was a message from Jim. Accessing his mail, he listened to the short message. "Damn it," he hissed under his breath.

Dee glanced over her shoulder at him. "What is it, Lobo?"

"Finally a message from Jim. And in it he says exactly nothing. Says Ms. Eolia gave him the story. I'll fucking story her--"

"Sandy!"

Blair had the good grace to blush. "Sorry, Megan. I just feel so damn helpless. Jim's off god knows where, doing god knows what, while Eolia tells him goddamn lies. This is all my fault."

The two women looked at each other for a moment, then back at him. "What?"

"Jim would be here with us if I'd just said something this afternoon. He asked me what I was working on, and I told him I'd tell him later. If I'd just told him our suspicions about Brad-- "

Megan shook her head. "Sandy, he would have thought you were nuts, especially if you added in all that stuff about Eolia being CIA and working with Brackett. He'd be checking you for feverish hallucinations. Besides, you had no hard proof, only a few tenuous paper trails and a big leap of imagination. And even if you had told him, it wouldn't have changed Brad's actions any. Dee still would have been shot, and Jim probably would still have gone to a safe house with Lee."

"I know, it's just--"

Crossing to his side, Dee slid her arm around his waist. "Come on, Lobo. What's done is done. We came through it okay; we're safe. We've heard from Jim; he's fine, too. And I'm tired. Can we go to bed and worry about this in the morning?" 

"I--" 

"No. I am not going to let you torture yourself over this anymore. Bed." She pushed him gently down the hall toward the bedroom. "Night, Megan, and thanks for giving up your bed."

The companion's "No problem" was cut off as Dee closed the door behind them. She turned around to face him, her lips parting as if to say something, but the words never came.

Instead she raised her hand to his face, her fingertips tracing lightly over his features. He blinked at her, a little surprised by her actions. "Dee?"

She leaned in closer, her hands cupping his face, her lips pressing gently against his temple, his eyelids, his cheek, the corner of his mouth. A tiny sigh escaped him, and Blair opened up the spiritual link between them, feeling her love pour over him like warm, sweet honey. "Angel..." he breathed, then whatever else he might have said was lost in her kiss.

Hands roamed freely, unfastening buttons, undoing zippers, layers of fabric pooling on the floor. The cotton bedspread was cool against his back, contrasting sharply with the fire of her hands and mouth on his chest. Her fingers glided further downward, her touch intimate and arousing. His low moan gave voice to his need, and grasping his hand, she pulled him to his knees. He swayed for a moment, then her arms went around him, steadying him as she swung her leg over his thighs, straddling him. 

Her fingers tangled in his hair as she tilted his head back, pressing a kiss against the skin in front of his ear, her tongue trailing across his cheek to delve between his slightly parted lips. Blair returned the deep kiss, his hands stroking down her back, pulling her closer, feeling the warm brush of her breasts against his chest. Rising up on her knees, she lowered herself back down slowly, her silken heat surrounding him. He gasped as she squirmed, driving him deeper. Then she began a kind of rhythmic swaying of her hips, her muscles clenching and releasing over and over.

He clung to her, his hands on her hips, his mouth on her neck, her long hair whipping back and forth as she tossed her head. He felt her nearing the precipice, her fingers digging into his shoulders, her body tightening against his. Fireworks exploded in his groin, and he groaned, his cry mingling with her moans of pleasure as she followed him over the edge.

Blair fell back against the mattress, his heart racing, his chest heaving. She collapsed on top of him, her face buried in the join of his neck and shoulder. After a few minutes had passed, he found enough strength to wrestle them both under the covers. Diandra attached herself to him again, pillowing her cheek on his chest, throwing an arm around his waist and a leg over his thigh. He stroked her shoulder gently, whispering he loved her as she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Not sure at first what had awakened him from his sated sleep, Jim slowly opened his eyes to find that Lee was snuggly curled against his side and dawn was slowly breaking through the bedroom's single window. Moving as carefully as he could, he slid out from under the very lithely muscled leg entrapping him and got out of the bed. Dark red hair, almost dark brown in the slowly gathering light, spread out over the pillows and barely covered one enticingly pale shoulder. Snapping his mind from the thought of crawling back into the warm bed and warmer body lying there, Jim walked from the room, pulling on the sweatpants he'd packed the evening before.

Moving down the hall to the kitchen, after a fast trip into the bathroom, the chirp of his cell phone drew him from his intent of making coffee. Picking up the phone, he saw that someone had left a voice mail for him. Entering the proper code, he listened to the message. 

"Jim, I hope to hell you're all right, since Simon wouldn't tell me where the hell you are. Like I said in my previous message, we're at Megan's. We're all fine, in case you're wondering. Call me."

Shaking his head, Jim closed the phone and walked into the kitchen. "Later, Chief. Like when I get back to the station." His back to the rest of the cabin, he nearly jumped out of his skin when two soft hands touched his waist above the band of his sweatpants.

"G'Morning, Jim." Her voice was soft, almost smoky in its tone. "Blair's worried?" 

Turning around to face her, he placed a kiss on top of Lee's sleep tousled hair. "He's like that. Morning, Lee. Sleep well enough?"

Stretching like a cat, hands above her head and going up on her toes, the black silk robe parting to reveal the wealth of alabaster and rose skin, Lee smiled. "Better than I have for months. You were amazing."

Clamping down on his physical response to the woman's teasing ways, Jim met her sensual smile with one of his own. "You amazed me as well, Lee. And as much as I would love to leave the coffee and carry you back to the bed, we really should get everything cleaned up and packed for our trip back into the city."

She pouted her lips. "Are you sure we can't stay here a little while longer?"

"Not if we're going to meet your bodyguard on time."

Shaking her head, Lee reached for his hands, pulling him with her as she backed out of the small kitchen. "Then, in the interest of saving time and water--"

* * *

The drive back into the city isn't as tense as I thought it would be, even if Jim and I seem to have lost the will to communicate verbally. What more could we say anyway? Our hands are doing the talking for us, twined together, fingers interlaced where they meet on the bench seat of the Jeep he's driving. All too soon, we're pulling into the garage at the police station and I've spotted my Student. Jan-Michel is waiting for us, his body insolently leaned up against the Lexus RX 300, his facial expression thoughtful. My oh so recent lover manages to park right next to the car and my bodyguard and I'm soon out of the Cherokee, greeting my friend.

"Jan! I see you got my message." I reach out to clasp his shoulder in friendship, only to have him take my backpack from my hands while remaining uncharacteristically silent. Confused by his actions, I turn to make my farewells to Ellison, while my Student watches my back.

"I hope we can talk again tonight, Jim."

Blue eyes I have watched go through a myriad of emotions are almost sparkling in their intensity as the tall detective turns to face me with the most mischievous smile on his face. "Talk? Tonight? Are you sure you just want to talk?" 

I'm in his arms, the place where I feel safe, protected and most of all, where I have learned I want to be. "Well, yes. And maybe something else afterwards?" I stifle an inward groan as I suddenly recall my promise to Diandra. "Actually, Jim, there is more I really need to talk to you about. Things you need to know if I'm to seriously consider coming back to Cascade once I retire from WindHawk and the Company."

"Hmm, sounds serious. Give me a hint?" I shake my head, then he's leaning down to place a chaste kiss on my forehead. "Fine, I'll wait. I'll have to call you though. I'm not sure what may be in store for me today here."

"That's all right. Use my cell phone, you have the number, right?" He nods, patting the left pocket of his leather jacket. "I'm not sure what my day has in store for me either, but I really want to talk to you. Heart to heart and mind to mind." We part and I wait until I see him enter the elevator before climbing up into the Lexus. Jan-Michel's already waiting inside.

"You didn't tell him, did you?" Jan mutters as he turns over the engine and pulls out of the parking garage.

I sigh. "No, not yet. He'll find out about my immortality soon enough. Tonight. I'll tell him tonight." I find myself praying to deities I haven't spoken to in a long, long time, asking that they grant my wish and that Jim will understand why I didn't tell him the truth from the very start.

Startled out of my meditations by Jan-Michel hitting the steering wheel in frustration, I stare at the man. "Not that, damn it! You didn't tell him that his buddy kicked us out of his lady friend's place after the attack on Diandra, did you? Or that you know that the man who has tried to kill you twice, nearly killed Pallas, and did murder David is one of US!" Venomous, dark hazel eyes bore into my own as he pulls to a stop at a traffic light. "Just how long have you known that?"

"I couldn't tell him. Not yet." I drop my face into my hands. Everything is becoming a very tangled mess. "Friday night."

"What?"

"I knew the other man at QuestScape was a possible Immortal when he walked into the lab and tried to blow my head off with that blasted shotgun of his."

"Shit! Didn't you think I had a right to know that?"

Oh, goddess! He's right! By not telling him, I've endangered my Student. Not to mention pissed off my bodyguard. "I wasn't sure, Jan. Honestly. I've lost so many of my skills since Azir was taken from me that I wasn't sure. For all I knew, the man could've been a pre-emergent or a full-blown Immortal -- I just didn't know! Not until he cut down John David and came after me again." Not exactly a lie, nor the full truth but it'll have to do for now.

"Then you told Sandburg the truth? You didn't know, for certain, that the thief from QuestScape was Immortal?"

"Yes. I couldn't lie to him just then, not with Dee dying in his arms like that." I turn my gaze outward, studying the passing landscape for a few tense moments before deciding to tell Jan-Michel more of the story. "I paid a little visit to Norman Ventriss yesterday, before everything went so damn bad."

"When? You were still in bed when Pallas and Sandburg woke and left-- " He cuts himself short as he pulls in the parking lot of an Econo-Lodge. A far cry from the Excelsior, but we really don't have a choice now, do we?

"I was up way before the sun. I broke into Ventriss' home, hoping to find the DVD and instead, I found out the name of my Immortal enemy." Yes, that is how I've come to think of the kid -- an enemy. One to be taken out of the Game with extreme prejudice, and I'm the one to punch his ticket to Tartarus.

"Oh? And just who might that be?"

"Bradley Ventriss. The old man's adopted son."

It doesn't take me long to unpack the meager belongings I had stuffed into my pack before running off with Ellison last night. Then I have to face the music, or rather, my bodyguard and Student. It takes over an hour for me to convince him I have to go back to Diandra's home, if only to apologize -- to face both her and Sandburg. To tell them the truth, even if that might mean having to face the Amazon in a Challenge. To get him to agree to take me there, I have to tell my Watcher everything about my past: my involvement in the CIA, my life as a spy and agent provocateur and my true age. That nearly floors the man, until he recalls his duty as my Watcher and asks for a condensed version of my life story. He manages to use up all of the microtapes he'd brought with him and has to resort to taking notes by hand. 

It's nearly four in the afternoon when he pulls up to 852 Prospect Avenue and I gesture for him to wait in the car. This is something I have to do alone.

The zip-zing of warning ripping up my spine tells me there is an Immortal nearby, but I'm still having trouble telling where so I don't know if it's Diandra I'm sensing or someone else. I climb the stairs to the third floor and the buzzing gets stronger as I approach the Dorian's home. Raising a hand to knock, I step back when the door is pulled open and I'm face-to-face with a pissed off Amazon wielding her deadly katana.

"What the fuck do you want, Lee?"

I raise my hands at my sides, weaponless, and hang my head. I'll gladly accept whatever punishment this woman wants to give me, after all, I deserve it. "I came to apologize, Dorian. And to beg your indulgence and ask you to listen to me." Her blades whips upwards, coming to rest on my throat. I don't move, barely breathing, accepting my fate.

The silence between my old savior and I is broken, not by her, but by Sandburg. "I should let Dee take your damn head, Eolia, but we just got the last of the blood cleaned up and I do not want to do that again anytime soon."

The hard steel edge drops from my throat.

"Maybe I'm just too curious for my own good. Get in here, Lia." Diandra pulls me into the loft, slamming the door behind me. All too soon, I'm seated in a straight-backed chair in the living area of the apartment. Facing me are Diandra and her consort, who opts to stand behind her while she sits in another chair, her sword resting on her knees. She's looking at me through hooded, vibrant blue eyes -- gazing into my soul, seeking my truth, like she used to do at Delphi. "Tell me your story, Eolia."

I lock my gaze with hers, never flinching from those far seeing orbs, and the truth spills from my soul. "I knew, Friday, that the thief at QuestScape who shot at me was possibly immortal, just like I knew it was the same man who shot down John David in the alleyway. At the time I thought he was after me because I could identify him to the authorities." Diandra nods, accepting that truth. "But yesterday morning, I found out this Immortal's name and his connection to Norman Ventriss -- which made me think the man had set me up." At the edge of my vision I see Sandburg flinch and I turn my gaze to the young man. "You knew. Yesterday, you knew, didn't you?"

"I suspected. It was the only way the pieces fit together and made any sense. Then Dee stumbled in here, dying, and I snapped."

"You had every right to explode on me. I hadn't told you, or Dee, the truth about my attacker. If I had, then maybe you wouldn't have had to watch as she died in your arms."

"What do you plan to do now, Eolia?" Diandra's calm voice pulls my attention back to her.

"What is right. Dee, I spent last night in a safe house with Jim and we talked. I told him almost everything about me -- what I've done for a living--and he said he's willing to try to put that behind us if I am. And I think that I am. I want out of the business, Dee."

"You haven't told him you're Immortal yet." It was a statement, not a question. She knew I hadn't. I nod and the Amazon sighs as she leans back in her chair. "You'll tell him, tonight, and I'll be there with you to make sure you don't back out."

"I had already planned on telling him tonight, but thanks. I could use the support."

"Wait a damn minute! You told Jim you're CIA and he took it well?" Sandburg looks as though he doesn't fully believe me.

"Yes, I told him. He seemed to understand, admitted that he didn't like the idea, but I don't blame him."

"What do you mean?"

"Sandburg, he told me about his last mission as a Ranger. He's special, isn't he?" He nods, his eyes turning curious, probably wondering where I'm about to go with that statement, and Diandra's watching me like a hawk, her fist closing on the hilt of her blade. "Have you had a chance to read over my Chronicles?"

"Only part of them, why?" His voice is leery. He's frightened. Of me or the Company?

"Then you read about my involvement with the CIA. You have to know that Leandra Evans left the Agency under a cloud of suspicion, right? And that Emil Saunders followed shortly there after." He nods, and I gather myself for the pain that is to come. That part of my life was very difficult and just thinking about it brings the old festering wounds back to the surface. "I left, under orders from both Directors -- Intelligence and Operations -- to follow a agent they suspected had gone rogue on us, but was still operating under the Company's black operations budget."

I can no longer sit still, I get up from the chair and find myself pacing the floor of the living area. "I followed him into Peru, where I managed to get hired on at the Embassy as a clerk. I tagged along with him when he returned to the States, where he started to set up experiments at the Sandia Labs in New Mexico, looking for people with heightened senses. I think he was hoping to find someone, anyone, with more than three hyper senses. I was working as his aide, maintaining discreet contact with Azir, and we started to find people with extreme sensitivities. People like Jim."

"What?!" One outburst, then a deep breath, and now Blair Sandburg is facing me where I stand next to the couch. He's toe to toe with me, Dee's sword in his hand, and his dark eyes flashing blue fire at me. "You have no idea what you're talking about, lady. What was the name of that agent? I have contacts who can confirm or deny your story."

What is it with this mortal? First Dee, and now Jim? He's protecting them, but from what? What makes them so special to this young man that he's willing to pick up a blade to defend them? I smile, a sad grin really, as I push the sharpened steel away from my chest with the back of my bare hand. "I know you do. You've already talked with Llewyllyn Huddleston and, I suspect, Jack Kelso as well?" I don't wait for him to answer. "I've seen the way Jim tilts his head, the way he seemingly picks up on things no one else can hear. He's special and I will NOT allow anyone -- especially my old training instructor -- to get near him. I'd rather take my own head than to see Jim fall into the clutches of Brackett."

The young Watcher is fuming. He looks ready to take my head for me, but then Diandra's there beside him, gently coaxing the sword from his white-knuckled grip while softly speaking to him. "Lobo, give me the sword. This is the Champion's fight, not the Companion's." Champion? Companion? What the hell?

"Dee! She worked with Lee Brackett! She's a danger to you as well as Jim! I knew I was right not to trust her!" How does he know Brackett's first name? Why are those terms Diandra used setting off bells in my head?

"It's my fight, Lobo. Jim's, too, if he wants to get involved. But you heard Lia, she's willing to give her life to protect him from that man." She's finally gotten the sword from him and sets it down on the coffee table. "Lia, go get your stuff from the bedroom, but then I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"I understand, Lady D." I leave the room, the words still ringing in my head. As I gather up the items I had left here, packing them, I slip my new tanto under my belt, keeping it handy. One can never have too many weapons on hand when being hunted by an immoral Immortal. The Lady Smith and Wesson handgun is still in its place in my waist bag, and I'll use it if I have to against Bradley Ventriss but only to slow him down, not kill him. I want to hurt that son of a bitch. Zipping my nearly overstuffed suitcase closed, I can barely hear Diandra and Sandburg as they argue behind my back.

"Damn it, Dee! If Brackett were to get a hold of you, he'd never cease testing you! He wouldn't be happy testing just your senses - he'd try to figure out why you're Immortal as well!" he hisses.

"Blair, calm down. Don't go borrowing trouble. We have enough to deal with already. We need to take care of Ventriss before we start worrying about all the other mad men in the world." Dee's voice is quietly steady.

"You don't understand Brackett -- he'd come after the Companion first, to assure your cooperation! Trust me, I've been there!"

There's those damn words again. Could it be, Diandra a Champion, a warrior blessed by the gods with all of her senses heightened? The Dorian? That would make Sandburg her Companion. Oh, mighty Athena! If that's true, then I cannot allow Dee, or Sandburg, to come to harm! The Amazon Champions were to be protected, at all costs, just like their Companions. I never met such a pair, but the legends were quite explicit -- for the safety of the tribe, down to the last child, all would fight to protect the Blessed Partners of Artemis.

The phone in the living area rings, but no one moves to pick it up. They are still arguing, though I can no longer hear the words, just the harsh whispering filtering down the hallway through the open door. I pick up my suitcase and step out into the hallway.

"Dee, you'd better check that message, it could be Megan." 

"Not until I'm sure you're okay with this."

"I'm not okay, but I understand. You're right; it's your fight, not mine." Yes, I was right! Blair Sandburg is a Companion--a Shaman as well, a very powerful mix -- not a person I would want as an enemy.

"I'll be careful, Lobo."

I step back into the living area, just as Diandra starts to play back the phone message that was left on her answering machine. The suitcase falls to the floor from my nerveless fingers as the familiar voice fills the room.

_"Hey, Sandburg! Interesting taste you have in women, Professor. I never would've guessed you liked older women. I like older women too. How about you send one of them to me? Either that Pallas bitch or the redhead, I don't care. Oh, but if you don't? I think I'll see just how hard it would be for me to go after Ellison at the station house. Or maybe I'll just plant a bomb in his truck. You'll never know until the deed is done, Police Consultant Sandburg."_

The laughter that follows is anything but nice. The shivers it sends down my spine chill me to the core. That son of a bitch would go after Jim just to hurt Sandburg? Not on my watch!

_"I'll give you until six tonight to make your choice, Sandburg. If you want to come and watch, that's fine. I'll meet the lady of your choice at the old duck pond down by the docks. You remember the duck pond, don't you, Blair? The one Lash should have drowned you in?"_

* * *

Blair felt the blood rush from his face, leaving him light-headed. _No, god, no, this can't be happening._ Dee's hands grasped his upper arms, supporting him.

"Blair, it's got to be me. I can beat him; you know that. This is exactly what I was talking about, the Champion's fight. If I don't go, then he'll just go after Jim and maybe get Megan killed as well. I cannot allow that."

Blair shook his head. No. Yesterday was too close, too close. Better to call Simon, send the SWAT team, the cavalry, anyone, anyone but her. One look in her eyes told him those ideas were out. Quickly he replied, "Let me go with you! I know how he thinks; I know where the pond is! I can help you!"

"Lobo, no! All that will do is get you hanged by the Watchers. Better that I do this alone." She pulled him into a quick hug. "You understand, don't you, why I have to do this?"

He nodded against her shoulder. "Yeah, I do, I just..." He moved back to look at her, wanting to believe this wouldn't be the last time he gazed into her eyes. "The duck pond is in a run-down park near where they tore those warehouses down on the waterfront. It's locked up all the time now; nobody will be there." 

"Okay. I'll just get my weapons and head over there, make sure it isn't a trap." She let go of him, one hand coming up to caress his cheek. "Don't worry, I'll--"

Eolia's sharp yell interrupted the moment. "Lady D!"

Diandra turned toward the other Immortal, then staggered back, her hands wrapped around the hilt of the dagger protruding from her chest. Eyes wide in pain and shock, her knees buckled and she dropped to the floor, a small cry escaping her lips.

For a moment, Blair was too stunned to move, then rage took over. "What? Oh my GOD! You BITCH!" He charged Eolia like a linebacker, head down, hitting her full force, slamming her into the corner of the bookcase. Both of them tumbled to the floor and he felt her foot connect with his stomach as he rolled away. 

"I don't want to hurt you, Companion."

Springing to his feet, he growled, "Too fucking bad. I'm gonna kill you, bitch." A hard kick to her cheek snapped her head back. Her return kick sent him tumbling over the back of the sofa, and he fell hard on the coffee table, slightly dazed. Leaping over the couch, she landed with both feet on his chest, and he felt ribs as well as the table snap. He hit the floor with a grunt, wanting nothing more than to stay down, but he knew he couldn't. He got to his feet again, adrenaline deafening him to whatever it was she was shouting at him. All that mattered was defeating her, was keeping her from killing Dee.

Again he charged her. She dropped to the floor, using her legs and his momentum to toss him across the room. Blair was up before she was, his fist connecting solidly with her jaw. Her foot returned the favor. He moved back, warier now, but still not prepared for her next move. Leaping into the air, Lee wrapped a leg around his neck, pulling him down amid the wreckage of the coffee table. Her heel stabbed at his sternum, and Blair felt the air rush from his lungs.

He lay there gasping, watching helplessly as she approached Dee, and for the first time he realized she was still alive, her fearful blue eyes glued on him. Oh, god, no, he couldn't let this happen! He had to do something. His arm flailed against the carpet and his fingers brushed against something smooth and solid. Without looking, Blair knew it was the hilt of her katana. His fingers tightened around the carved ebony, and he forced himself to stand.

Eolia's back was to him. Gripping the sword with both hands, Blair brought it around as he'd seen Diandra do hundreds of times, the razor-sharp edge biting deep into Lee's side before he pulled it out, the gleaming steel now blood red. She dropped to her knees, a gasp her only sound.

"Stay the hell away from her, Lee." He brought the weapon up to shoulder height. 

Lee grabbed hold of the arm of a chair, using it to pull herself up, turning slowly toward him, one hand pressed to her wound.

"Stay down, damn it!" God, he didn't want to kill her; he just wanted her to leave them alone! He swung the sword as she moved toward him, misjudging the distance and missing her entirely. Her foot shot out, connecting with the blade, sending the katana flying from his hands. No, no, this wasn't happening, he couldn't let it happen! Her fist hit him in the chest like a sledgehammer, and this time he saw spots as the oxygen was driven from his lungs. Blair fell forward, something hard connecting with his neck as he hit the floor.

Darkness danced in front of his vision, but he fought it, fought to meet his lover's eyes one last time. The love and terror he saw there shook him to the core. _I'm sorry, angel, I'm sorry._ Then everything went black.

* * *

Sandburg's down and out, sprawled at my feet on the hard wooden floor. The ribs he managed to break on my body are already healing under the power of my quickening as is the deep gash, though I've left quite a bloody mess on the carpet. If he hadn't hesitated to go for the kill, to take my head with the blade, he really might have stood a chance against me. Next time, he'll know better -- a tough lesson for the Companion of a Champion to learn. 

Crossing over to kneel beside Diandra, I'm surprised to see she's not dead yet. "Dee, I'm sorry, but I cannot allow a Champion of Artemis to fight my battles for me." She's grasping the tanto's hilt, trying to pull it out of her body. I place my hands over hers and stop her futile attempts. She's soon gone. I'll have to leave the blade where it's at or risk her recovering too quickly. She cannot be allowed to interfere with my mission.

Going back to my dropped suitcase, I dig in a side pocket and come up with several other items I'll need, shurikans, night vision binoculars, and my polymer throwing darts. Tucking the items into my coat pockets, I pause to check on the Companion. He's out, but his pulse is strong. He'll survive to truly hate me now. I can live with that. I'll never be able to come back here. Jan-Michel and I will have to flee this country, hiding someplace where I can train him while avoiding these two and Jim. 

My heart starts to break. By attacking Sandburg, Jim's partner, I've doomed any relationship I might have enjoyed with the detective. Once again, I'll be alone.

Fine. Bonfarkar, Egypt is a good place for me to hide and the CIA still maintains a small outpost there. I leave the apartment, pondering my next move as I walk down the stairs. I cannot take the chance that my student, my Watcher, will follow me. Besides, I've already spilt friendly blood this evening. What's one more body to the count? Before I leave the building, I realize I've already doomed Jan. I'll have to leave his training up to someone else. Maybe Diandra will take him under her wing, especially when she realizes what I'm about to do to him. 

I approach the Lexus, not even trying to hide my movements. Why should I? He's Immortal; he'll sense me coming. Better to face him outright than try to sneak up on him. He's opening the driver's door, stepping out to greet me, and I shoot him. Center of mass, another heart strike. Damn, I was always better with a gun than Azir was. Nice to see I haven't lost that skill.

The gunfire echoes strangely in the parking area, but no one seems to notice as it sounds more like a car back firing than a shot. I catch his falling body before it can hit the ground and, with a little effort, I tuck him away in the alley near the dumpsters. His third death, this one by my hands. It should take a while for him to recover. By the time he does, I'll be long gone.

* * *

My first stop upon leaving Diandra's is a fast-food joint to change my torn and bloody clothes in their restroom. My next is the city library to access their periodical files. Using the computers there, I type in the word Lash (as a proper name) into the search engine and I'm rewarded with several articles from the local newspapers. One even includes a map of the city with the duck pond where this serial killer liked to drown his victims clearly marked. Glancing at my watch, I realize I only have about fifty minutes before meeting Bradley Ventriss at the pond. Thanking the librarian, and leaving a generous donation in their 'Friends Of The Library' collection box, I leave. 

The drive to the docks is long. I have to reroute a few times around traffic accidents and one closed off street, but then I'm there. Parking to the west of the fenced in area, I pull out my nightscope binoculars and search the park for signs of life. Nothing yet. Oh well, I am a bit early. Reaching up behind me, I disable the dome light before I climb out of the Lexus. No sense in giving away my position.

Holding my Zatoichi cane sword in one hand, I shrug out of my coat -- I don't need the distraction or the potential hazard of getting my blade caught in the leather -- and double check to see I still have my revolver on me as well as my other tools. Then I'm slipping through the darkness like a vengeful wraith, sticking to shadows where I can, running like the wind where I can't. I manage to clear the fence in a move that would've surprised my physical trainers at the Farm and hit the ground on the other side, pulling my handgun free of the fanny pack. 

Still nothing. He's not here yet. Good. That gives me time to set up and wait for him to arrive. There's a young redwood, weathered and gnarled from exposure to the harsh winds that surely blow off the Sound, that will suit my purpose. Holstering my gun, I run for the tree and shimmy up the trunk to rest on a high branch. 

I see the lights of a car approaching, then they flick off before the car comes to a halt just out of sight of my Lexus. Keeping my eyes on the car, I see the lanky form that emerges. Ventriss. Bradley. My target. Get your ass over here, you goddamn, misbegotten son of Loki. 

He's wary, his head snapping up in realization just as I feel the tingle that tells me he's Immortal. He knows one of our kind is here waiting for him. He's moving towards the fence, climbing it with the ease of youth, then he's calling out.

"Well, I can tell that someone's here. Come on out! I won't hurt you--much!" Cocky asshole.

I pull my gun free of its hiding place one last time, take careful aim and pull the trigger. Once, twice, a double tap to the chest -- just like I've been trained to do. He's on the ground, and I'm flowing down the tree from my aerie, cautiously approaching his fallen form. A quick search of his coat and body reveals two handguns and one well-worn sword. Pitching the guns into the putrid waters of the pond, I leave him only his blade. This time, he'll fight like an Immortal is supposed to fight -- honest combat with crossed swords.

I settle back on my haunches to await his return from the dead, making sure I'm not too close to him. The cold night air starts to penetrate my black running suit as time slowly crawls by. I ignore the chill, focusing intently on my prey.

* * *

Jim pulled into the parking area behind his home and sat there with the engine idling for a few minutes before slowly crawling out of his truck. He hadn't done much more than sit around the department that day, filling out report after report, until he and Connor had been handed an unremarkable case to follow up on. The day before Christmas and all through Cascade, the burglars were prowling, their sights set on easy gain. His headache was back with a vengeance. He'd had to keep the mental dials on his senses backed off to near zero most of the day and that, coupled with the inactivity, made him feel every day of his age. He was stiff, sore and not looking forward to listening to Blair, Diandra and Megan's laughter while they took care of last minute details for the holiday.

Entering the building, he was happy to note the elevator was back in working order and gladly used it. He hadn't relished the idea of climbing up three flights of steps, not with the way he was feeling. Maybe he'd be able to catch a little private time with Lee tonight. Have that talk she wanted to have. 

The grin he had felt on his face vanished as the door to the lift opened up and he was once again assaulted by the overwhelming smell of freshly spilt human blood. Pulling his sidearm, the Sentinel started to track the odor, automatically separating at least two different blood smells. His hearing picked up the sound of labored breathing, and he traced the stench to Pallas' loft. Not again! 

Scanning the rooms beyond the closed door as best he could without Blair's guidance, Jim couldn't sense anything out of the ordinary -- if you didn't count the cloying, metallic smell and the ragged breathing. Reaching out with his left hand, gun at ready in his right, Jim opened the door with a solid push.

The devastation that met his gaze was horrendous. The normally neat apartment was a shambled mess, tables, bookshelves broken, couch over turned, and blood everywhere. Then he spotted Diandra. Her normally vibrant blue eyes, clouded over in death, were open and gazing at something he couldn't see from the doorway. Stepping cautiously into the apartment, he followed the haunting gaze of the Immortal Amazon and found his partner.

Moving quickly to Blair's side, Jim dropped to his knees and felt for a pulse. Sandburg was on his stomach, bruising already showing up on the side of his face that Jim could see. His breathing was raspy, and Jim was able to identify it as the noise he'd heard from outside in the hallway. Placing his Sig-Sauer on the floor, medic training coming to his aid, the detective cautiously rolled the battered man onto his back, being careful not to let his spine shift in the process. Blair's breathing steadied out and Jim took the time to glance over his shoulder at Diandra.

The knife protruding from her chest shocked him. He knew that blade, had held it and admired it in the evidence room. It was Lee's. Knowing Blair could possibly be dying from unknown internal injuries, Jim steeled himself to do what had to be done. Still on his knees, he leaned over the fallen Immortal, grasped the hilt of the tanto and, choking back the bile rising in his throat, pulled the blade out of Diandra's heart. Dropping the weapon, Jim stared at the blood on his hands then his vision focused in on another pool of blood. 

It was a relatively small pool, but it wasn't connected to the one that had formed under the Champion. Its odor was slightly different, not belonging to his guide or to the woman Blair loved. Could it belong to whoever had attacked them? 

The violent intake of breath, echoing in the open loft, pulled him back from the edge of a zone-out, and Jim was heartened to see that Diandra was reviving. 

"Jj-j'm?"

The soft-spoken plea of his roommate pulled Jim's attention back to Blair. "Yeah, Chief, it's me." He reached out to keep the younger man from moving too much. "Whoa, not so fast there, partner. Wait until Dee can check you over."

"Dee? She okay? That bitch didn't-- " Blair snapped his mouth closed, not finishing the sentence.

"She'll be fine. I removed the knife, and she just took her first breath right before you called out to me. How're you feeling? Did you see who did this to you?" Who was the 'bitch' his partner had inadvertently referred to?

Blair struggled to sit up, biting his lips in an effort to block the pain Jim knew he must be feeling. "I've been better. And, yeah, I saw who did this to us." Denim blue met ice blue and Jim saw reluctance in his eyes. "It was Eolia."

"What?!" Jim rocked back off his knees, landing on his butt as he tried to deny what his friend had just said. "Why, Chief? What happened here that would force Lee to try to kill you both?"

"I don't know. One moment, Dee and I were arguing about who should respond to the challenge Brad issued, the next thing I know, Lee called out to Dee, threw something and I saw the knife enter Dee's chest." Jim could see Blair was trying to push back the pain threatening to overcome him again, fighting against the encroaching blackness with a will of iron. "I went berserk, tried to take Lee out by myself, even used Dee's sword against her-- "

"Christ's Blood! Jim, what happened here? Where's Diandra?" Megan Connor, supporting an obviously hurting Jan-Michel LaFollet, stood in the doorway of the apartment, her face paling with shock.

Looking over the man's condition, Jim started to put together the small puzzle pieces that had been eluding him since he first met the WindHawk team. LaFollet's coat and shirt were bloody, two neatly placed bullet holes in the linen showing the skills of the shooter. The double tap was so closely grouped together it had to have been a pro that had shot the new Immortal. Had Lee felt threatened enough to shoot her own man? Who was this "Brad" that Blair had said had issued a challenge? And what did Connor mean? Diandra was right there-- only she wasn't. The woman, her sword and the knife he'd pulled from her body were gone.

* * *

Her first breath was like inhaling fire. Everything hurt, and it was all she could do to keep from screaming. Dee curled in on herself, feeling each individual cell finish its regeneration process. She thought the sensation had been bad with her senses at normal. Her Champion abilities made coming back from the dead a thousand times worse. She rested for a few moments, her eyes closed against the light, listening to Jim tending to his guide. 

At Blair's mention of Eolia's name, she remembered what had happened. She looked at the watch on her wrist. Six PM. Damn it! Rolling to her feet, she silently gathered up her sword and tucked the tanto Lia had used on her through her belt. With one last glance at the two men, neither of whom was paying any attention to her, she slipped out the open door of the loft and down the stairs. She reassured herself that Blair was awake and talking, and if he was seriously injured Jim would make sure he got to the hospital. 

Dee had to be at the pond, even though she was probably too late now to stop Lee from engaging him in combat. If the other woman failed, Bradley Ventriss could not be allowed to escape. So why did chasing after Eolia feel like she was betraying her friends?

* * *

Thirty minutes? It takes his body thirty damn minutes to recover from my deadly assault? Whelp. Puppy. Mongrel. The first, violent, intake of air echoes in my ears as he sits up, reaching for the guns he no longer carries on his body. "I tossed them, you son of a bitch."

He scrambles to his feet, unsteady as he's still healing, clutching his purloined sword in his right hand. Probably his predominate hand, good, gives me a point of reference to his skills. "You shot me!"

I smoothly rise to my feet from the dilapidated merry-go-round I had moved to while awaiting his return. "No, I shot you twice."

"God, I hurt! Damn it, healing shouldn't hurt this damn much!" He's rubbing his chest where I'd placed my rounds, still clutching the saber in his right hand.

"You'll live. For a while anyway." I pull my blade from its scabbard, and gesture with the naked blade. "You're Bradley Ventriss, aren't you? Son of Norman?"

He's finally bringing up his blade in a _en guard_ position. Fool, I hope he doesn't think this is going to be a simple sparring match. "Yeah, I am, as well you know. You saw me in the lab, didn't you?"

"Oh, yes. I saw you there, in a photo in your father's study and in the alleyway where you killed my friend." I slide forward on the snow packed ground, moving into position to engage him in combat. "You should've shot me first, asshole."

He's grinning as he shrugs his narrow shoulders. "I missed. I take it you want to do this the old fashioned way?"

I'm ready and bring my sword up to touch his, the blades crossing in the sodium colored light of a distant street lamp. "The only way to go, Brad. If you're not a fucking coward."

His face, barely discernible in the poor light, darkens as he bats my blade away in a move so clumsy I doubt that he's ever had any serious training. "I'm no coward!" His next move is disappointingly predictable, rushing towards me, sword held like a baseball bat, swinging to connect. Sparks fly where our blades make contact as I parry his blow, then dance away to let him slide on the snow covered ground past me.

"What do you think this is, Bradley? A ball game? Or a bullfight?" Before he can recover his footing, I let my steel reach out and caress his face, slicing it open along the jawbone. 

"Damn!" He's distracted by the pain of a minor wound? His teacher, if he's still alive, must have not taught him very well. The grin blooming on the man's face is almost friendly. "First blood. Doesn't mean you'll win."

I answer his grin with my own, my voice dropping half an octave as I glare at him. "No, it doesn't. But then again, I've been fighting punks like you all my life and have managed to stay alive."

He's back, swinging the blade in his right hand with a bit more control, like he's remembered his lessons. The effort it takes to parry his blows is almost laughable; I've taken worse hits from Diandra when we sparred last. Remembering my friend, I recall her favorite move. With a vicious, backhanded blow to his blade, I kick the kid in the stomach. Hmm, works well. Thanks, Dee; I'll remember this move.

Bradley is backing away from me, sword still held, somewhat, in a ready position, but he's trying to suck air back into his lungs, wheezing like an old man. How pathetic. He stumbles over something buried in the snow, falling on his backside and, not being one to waste such an opportunity, I move in and give him a shallow slash across the chest. I move out of range of a wild, uncontrolled, swing of his sword. He loses his grip on it, and it goes flying.

"Tsk, tsk. That was really stupid of you, throwing your blade away like that." The ground isn't too cluttered with broken playground equipment, and I cartwheel away from him as he stands, coming back up with my blade in one hand, my scabbard and his blade in my other. 

"This is it, isn't it? You're going to take my head, aren't you?" He's almost whining, his face drained of all color as he realizes I could kill him now.

"Not yet." I drop his blade from my grasp, and with a solid toe kick, send it flying back towards him. "I prefer to fight an armed opponent. Pick it up!" 

Slowly, he bends over to pick up the old Confederate States of America saber; I'd taken a good look at it before giving it back, and I move in again.

My scabbard is ironwood, solid, and nearly as hard as the steel it houses. I'm used to fighting with two blades. My hands and arms move in constant motion, blurring the weapons in front of me as I attack. He's trying to block my hits, but he's concentrating on the steel, not the wood, and it's the wood that makes contact with his ribs, then his neck as he reels away from the impact. I use his pain-filled distraction to switch hands, moving the scabbard to my right, the blade to my left. I twirl around him and give him another love tap with my foot over his kidneys. He drops to his knees.

"Bradley, Bradley. You really must not have paid attention to your Teacher, never turn your back on your opponent." To help him remember this lesson, I slice open the back of his jacket, catching the skin below it and almost ripping his spine apart in the process. Damn, I haven't felt this charged by a Challenge in a long, long time. It'd be so easy to take his head right now, but I'm too pissed at him, so drunk with battle lust that I want to toy with him. Make him pay for what he did to Diandra, pay for even thinking of threatening Jim. 

He's slow to rise to his feet again, but I let him, standing just beyond the range of his sword arm. Yes, I'm giving him the chance to recover; I want this son of a bitch to hurt before I dispatch him to hell.

"It's funny, you know? I've taken a few heads since I became Immortal, and it's amazing how the voices of those taken like to whisper in my head." What the hell is he talking about? "You see, I think I just realized who you are--Houri."

My world crashes to a stop. "What did you just call me?"

"Houri. That is correct, isn't it, Eolia?"

Goddess! "You!" My rage is building to atomic proportions. "You're the headhunter who took him from me!?!"

"Azeem, Erzi, what ever the hell the name of that camel jockey was in Seattle. Yeah. He never even saw me coming, then actually begged me not to kill him."

"AZIR!!!" Battle rage becomes pure berserker and I'm after the man who took my husband from me. Steel and wood flying, I give no quarter, pressing him back across the park. Blow after blow slips past his ineffectual guard to cut him to shreds, cracking ribs, breaking his left arm, totaling a knee cap. Revenge really is sweet; I'm slowly destroying a monster.

He falls to the ground near a large, concrete sewer pipe then, like the vermin he is, he's scuttling inside, away from my righteous vengeance. "Damn you! Come out of there, you goddamned sewer-rat! I'm going to gut you, use your innards to strangle you, then I'm going to take your head!" I dare not go in after him, even though the conduit is large, it's not large enough to use my sword in, and I managed to lose my gun. Yes, at this point, I think I could do the dishonorable thing and kill him by headhunter methods.

"You want me, come in and get me, bitch!" The voice is full of pain and fear; he's hurting that's for certain.

"Get out here and fight like a man!" I'm pacing the area to the side of the long concrete pipe, not knowing when, or where, he'll come out of his hole. "Son of a Bolshevik bastard! Azir el Sadih was my husband! He was an honorable man! Not a craven scum-sucker like you! Ares, give me strength! I'm going to enjoy ending your misbegotten life!"

The laughter echoing out of the pipe is weak, yet full of malevolence. "Ares? You pray to a dead God for strength?"

"Get out here and find out just how dead Ares is, Brad! As long as one person on Earth believes in him, Ares -- God of War, exists! In me!" I'd never really prayed to the War Gods before, but in the heat of battle, maybe this once Mars will answer me.

"I don't think so, sister. I'll come out when I'm good and ready and not a moment before." 

Temper flying, I decide to go after the man. "Not bloody likely." I step in front of the bolthole of my prey. The loud report of gunfire and the blossoming pain in my stomach tells me the ultimate truth. My temper will be my downfall.

Blade and scabbard drop from my hands, landing in the snow as I clutch the fatal wound, staggering backwards several paces before falling to my knees. Because I forgot the first rule of combat -- know the field, make sure that there is nothing the enemy can use against you -- I'm dying. This upstart of a headhunting, immoral Immortal had hidden a gun here, just in case whoever answered his challenge got the better of him. 

The sound of snow crunching under approaching feet makes me look up. He's standing over me, sword in hand, balanced on his shoulder. "Any last words?" 

He's won; I'm dead. Dying slowly before he completes the job. But I still have a little fight left in me, not much, but enough. Calling out to the heavens in the ancient tongue, I accept my fate. "Nemesis, hear my plea! Revenge upon this child! Take him to judgment, to Tartarus take his soul!" The breath leaves me, the pain in my gut flaring.

"Are you done?" His tone is so gloating, reveling in his victory. 

Almost. I bow my head, readying for the final blow, quietly whispering my last words on Earth. "Jim, I could have loved you--"

* * *

Diandra parked her Jeep next to Eolia's Lexus, scrambling out of the car, leaping onto the hood and then over the chain-link fence. Dropping to the ground, she drew her sword and paused, ranging her hearing outward, searching for any sign of the other Immortals. The sound of a gunshot made her scramble for the dials, losing precious seconds of time as she struggled to get control. Once she had it, she began to run toward their voices.

Topping a small rise, she gazed in shock at the scene below her, Eolia on her knees, her arms wrapped around her bleeding stomach, Ventriss standing over her, his sword resting lazily on his shoulder. Dee started down the hill, knowing she would never reach them in time, knowing she couldn't interfere if she did. Lia's curse floated across the snow-covered ground, and Diandra stopped where she was, straining to hear her last words. 

Ventriss' sword descended, and to Dee's horror the blade didn't go completely through on the first stroke. It took him two tries before Eolia's body slumped to the snow. The Amazon watched as her friend's Quickening seeped from her still form, hanging close to the ground for long seconds, then floating upward, twisting as it rose, becoming a whirlwind of electrical energy. Lightning sprang from the spinning funnel, striking the trees, the rusted playground equipment, and finally Ventriss, driving him to his knees.

Dee waited until the last flickers of power faded away, then she approached the other Immortal. His head came up as her buzz washed over him, and he staggered upright, leaning on his blade. Snapping a kick to his chest, the Champion sent him sprawling backwards on his ass, his sword skittering across the icy ground.

He peered up at her, and she knew he was trying to make out her features in the darkness, but the only illumination came from the wan moonlight behind her, the Quickening having shattered the solitary street lamp. "Who in the hell are you?" he finally gasped, and she could smell the fear pouring off of him.

Dee brought the katana back in preparation for the killing blow. "Diandra of Delphi. But tonight my name is Nemesis." Steel flashed in the air, slicing silently through flesh and bone. She took a step back, feeling the energy building around her. Throwing back her head, she screamed, giving voice to her rage and her grief. And then she was swallowed by the storm.


	9. Chapter 9

If he hadn't witnessed the devastation with his own eyes, hadn't heard the desperation in his partner's voice, Jim Ellison never would have believed the younger man's story. It was crazy, yet there was no doubt in his mind that it had been Ventriss' voice on the answering machine. Blair had insisted he play the message, to prove to the stubborn sentinel there was a reason for Lee's attack on him and Diandra. What Jim couldn't understand was why Lee felt she had to be the one to confront him. And what had been that crack of Brad's about older women? Lee wasn't immortal; she couldn't be immortal... 

The truck's tires slipped on the icy pavement and all thoughts other than driving flew out the window. They had to be in time to stop what was going to go down. Catching a glimpse of a bank's digital clock as he sped past it, Jim changed the thought to what had gone down. Twenty-five after the deadline hour and, with the conditions of the roads, they still had about fifteen more minutes of driving before they arrived at the old duck pond.

Sliding through a sharp turn, Jim heard Blair hiss in pain. "Sorry, buddy."

Holding his abused ribs, taking shallow breaths in an effort to control the pain flaring through his body, Blair Sandburg moved away from his contact with the door. "Jus' keep goin' -- I'll live."

Both eyes on the road, hands clenched around the steering wheel, the detective started the conversation again. "Chief, you were telling me how you came to the conclusion that Brad Ventriss is immortal."

"I didn't. Megan did." He glanced out the rear window, seeing the lights of Megan's SUV several blocks behind them.

"But you were the one that made the connections, right?"

"Yeah."

"Damn. Can't that son of a bitch just stay dead?" Jim turned the final corner that would put them on the straight road leading directly to the pond without fish-tailing the truck too much. 

"We can only hope." Blair muttered between clenched teeth, bracing one hand on the dashboard.

Jim heard the pain-filled voice, the sharp hissing breath and the rapid tattoo of his friend's heartbeat. "As soon as we find them, I'll get you to the hospital, Chief."

"'Kay."

The flash of lightning over the docks ahead of them heralded the sudden black out of power in the area. Jim slowed the truck as he watched the electrical display. He saw the brilliant bolts of power snake out, destroying windows, blowing out street lamps, then seemingly curl back into themselves as the display died. The horrified, whispered mantra caught his attention.

"It's not Dee, it can't be Dee. Let be Brad, please let it be Brad." 

Spotting Diandra's Jeep parked near Lee's Lexus, Jim pulled in beside the cars and jumped out of the truck after shutting the engine down. Walking around to assist Blair, he sent his hearing out, searching for the voice of either the Immortal Amazon or the security specialist and CIA agent. 

_"Diandra of Delphi. But tonight my name is Nemesis."_

"Chief! Dee's over that way!" Jim started to move towards the fence, intent on getting to Diandra, something in her voice worrying him.

"Oh shit! Too close! Way too close!" 

Concern for his friend over took Ellison's need to find and arrest the not-dead-after-all Brad Ventriss. He turned to see Blair trying to scramble away from the fenced in park, a look of sheer panic on the man's face as the strangely luminescent fog started to build around them. "Sandburg?" He reached his partner's side and made to support the unsteady student.

Blair could feel the sense of righteousness emanating from his lover through their connection, knew when the warrior he loved brought her blade down. He started to move, stumbling away from the epicenter of the Quickening that was rushing in to fill the void.

Blair's panic grew to new heights as Jim reached for him. He realized that if he and Jim were in contact when the second Quickening hit him through his connection to Diandra, it could have devastating consequences for both of them. "No! Don't touch me! Dial back, Jim! Zero all the dials out--" The pain stabbing through his head stopped all further thoughts from being voiced. 

The absolute terror in Blair's voice unnerved Jim, but not as much as the sight of him dropping like a poleaxed steer to the icy ground. Jim moved to try to cushion his friend's head as he started to convulse, not wanting the Guide to further harm himself. The hairs on the back of Jim's neck stood up and his skin started to tingle strangely, like it had when he was a child and he'd stood too close to a Tesla Generator at the Museum of Science. He could feel himself starting to zone out on the peculiar sensation, and tried to pull back. But something was powering the sensory feedback, causing it to loop over and over again, coming at him from three directions -- outside of him, through the Sentinel/Guide connection and from Blair himself.

* * *

Megan Connor cursed under her breath as she swerved to miss a car sliding through the intersection, barely avoiding getting hit herself by the out of control station wagon. Jockeying her Chevy Tahoe back onto the road from the sidewalk, she snapped at her passenger. "Bloody hell. Why couldn't Sandy and Jimbo have waited for us? Grab me that cell phone in the glove box, J-M."

Jan-Michel LaFollet released his death grip on the door and the dashboard, found the cell phone and handed it to her. "Do you know where they're going?"

"No." One hand on the wheel, she hit the auto-dial function on her department issued phone and nearly screamed in frustration as it took several rings before someone picked up her call. "Rafe! Bloody well took you long enough!"

"Connor? What the hell?"

"No time, mate. I need to know how to get to the duck pond by the docks. Don't ask, I'll tell you later."

"Duck pond by the docks? Meg, I'm not sure I know… Wait a second." There was silence on the other end then another voice chimed in on the line. 

"Connor, you wanting to know about the one where David Lash did his work?"

"Yes, Henri. I don't know where the hell it's at and I have to meet an informant there soon." 

"Take West 34th from South Main. It leads right to it." The normally jovial detective's voice was full of concern. "And Connor? Watch your back. That's a really bad area of town. Better yet, wait for Brian and I to back you up--"

"No time." She slapped the cell phone closed and threw it to the seat between her and LaFollet. "Hang on," was the only warning she gave as she whipped her forest green SUV into a 180 and gunned the powerful engine, heading back the way she had just come. "Passed the damn street I need three blocks back."

Jan-Michel merely nodded as he pushed off the door he'd been slammed into. "Do you always drive like this?" He flinched as the Inspector barely missed side-swiping another vehicle. "Kyyyrist! Don't answer that!"

Megan took the left onto West 34th, power sliding through the turn, her thoughts already far ahead of her position. "Bloody bugger, I knew there was something strange about your boss. She's another damn Immortal, isn't she? That's why she left to answer Ventriss' challenge."

"Yes, she is. But I don't understand why Lee felt she had to attack Diandra, Sandburg and myself." 

She heard the confusion in the blond man's voice and tried to sympathize with him, "Maybe she thought she was protecting you. I mean, you are new to this damn Game of theirs."

"Maybe." He was keeping his eyes forward, looking for the signs that they were getting close to their destination, when he saw it. "Shit! Quickening storm straight ahead. Step on it, Connor!"

Catching sight of the massive electrical storm forming in front of her, Megan felt her heart clench in fear. "Oh, God! Please, not Dee. Please don't let it be Dee--" Her foot pressed harder against the accelerator.

Spying Jim's distinctive blue and white pickup, Megan slid her Chevy to a skidding halt behind it. The Tahoe had barely come to a stop when LaFollet jumped out of the car and was running for the fenced in, darkened park. The Quickening storm they had seen had blown out the power grid for blocks and the second one that followed worried them both. She shut off the engine, jumped out, and was approaching the fence line herself when she found Blair and Jim.

Jim was on his knees next to Blair, his expression blank, his body rigid in the classic signs of a deep zone out. Her fellow Guide's body was still shivering in what looked to be the after effects of a grand mal seizure. Dropping to their sides, Megan reached out and pulled Jim's hand into hers, unknowingly severing the connection between the Sentinel and Guide, and cutting off one of the sources of his zone out. "Jim? Ellison! Damn it." No response from the detective. Looking down at the unconscious student, she said, "Sandy, I could use your help here." But there was no quirky, smart alec remark to answer her.

Thinking back to what she had seen of the Quickening storms, she decided to take a chance. "Okay, there was a hell of a light display, but you're both too close to the center. So maybe it was an overload on your sense of sight or maybe touch? Is that it, Jim?" Dropping her voice to a soft, quiet alto, Megan pulled the Sentinel's slack hand towards her chest, placing it, palm open and flat, over her heart. "Feel that? Come on; focus in on the feel of my heart. It's pounding like a rabbit's, I know, but you're scaring the hell out of me. Sandy's unconscious. I don't know why and I could really use your help here."

* * *

Jan-Michel cleared the fence in a smooth motion, adrenaline giving him the extra boost to hurdle the obstacle without a problem. Two Quickening storms, so close together, could only mean one thing. Out of the three Immortals that had arrived at this park, only one was left. Even as he ran deeper into the park, the former Navy SEAL made a silent vow. If it was Brad Ventriss, he'd kill the man with a well placed gun shot, then take his head in retribution for the loss of two of the oldest female Immortals on Earth.

Sliding to a halt, spotting a slumped figure on the snow covered ground, he pulled his gun and Azir's sword, ready to take revenge. The figure threw their head back, long dark hair cascading over her shoulders as a keening cry issued from her throat. Shocked, the weapons dropped from his hands as the answer became clear to him. Two Quickenings, two Immortals dead and only Diandra of Delphi remained alive. He collapsed to the ground, giving voice to his own grief. "NO! NO! Oh, God! Why Lee?"

* * *

"Damn it, Jim, come back to me--"

"Chief?"

Megan nearly cried at the sound of Jim's tentative query for his friend as she clutched his cold hand closer to her breast. Blinking away the few tears that escaped her control, she watched, horrified, as the Sentinel stiffened, then collapsed over the prostrate form of his friend. "No!" 

Shaking hands reached out to both men, searching for pulses she feared she wouldn't find. She was relieved when she did locate them. Sandburg's was a little thready, as was Ellison's, but neither man responded to her pleas, her prodding or the out right poke that she gave the detective in the ribs. She'd had the presence of mind to grab her cell phone when she exited her Tahoe and now pulled the device from her coat pocket. 

"This is Inspector Connor, Major Crimes. I have two men down, both are members of my department, at the old park at the west end of West 34th. I need an ambulance and back up here ASAP." Her voice was hard, leaving no room for argument as she told the Dispatch Office her situation. "Thank you." Shutting down the phone, her head snapped up as the sound of two voices screaming, in what could only be called grief, shattered the cold night air. "Oh, god! Now what?" 

She was torn. The cop in her needed to investigate the disturbance, but the part of her that was friend to Ellison and Sandburg wanted to stay with them until the medics arrived. The part of Megan that was Companion to Diandra's Champion had to find out if the Immortal Amazon was okay. The Companion won out and she clambered over the hood of Dee's Wagoneer to jump the fence, pulling her gun as she hit the ground on the run. The faint moonlight was her only guide as she searched for the source of the grief stricken cries.

* * *

Diandra got to her feet slowly, picking up her katana and tucking it inside her coat. She was bone-tired and totally wired at the same time. Shaking her head to clear the last of the ringing from the Quickening, she shuffled over to Ventriss' body and began to methodically go through his clothing, pocketing keys, I.D, anything that could possibly identify him. She found the gun he'd used on Eolia, and tucked that away too. Damn it! He had to have a car here somewhere. She'd have to find it. But first things first. She had to get rid of his body. Otherwise people would be asking all kinds of questions, like how did a dead man end up dead again.

Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a small can of lighter fluid she'd taken from Brad. Popping the top off of it, she sprinkled the fluid on his shirt. It wasn't much, but hopefully it would be enough to get the fire started. She'd have to look for more fuel, but maybe it'd at least catch his clothing on fire. Striking a match from the booklet she always carried, she dropped it on him and walked a few paces away to where Eolia had fallen.

She gazed down at the lifeless body of the other Immortal. "Aw, damn it, Lia, why couldn't you let me be the one to challenge him?" Dee pushed her hair back off her face and wiped at her eyes. "And what am I going to do with you now?"

The sound of footsteps crunching on snow reached her ears, followed by an immortal warning tingle. She looked up to see Jan-Michel approaching slowly, his shoulders slumped. Stepping over Lee's body, Dee moved to block his view. "Jan," she said softly, reaching out a hand to stop him. "You really don't need to see this."

She watched him swallow convulsively. "Yes, I do, if only to close her Chronicle." 

Shrugging, Dee stepped aside. LaFollet gazed at his fallen teacher for several moments, then turned away, retching. When he was through, Dee said, "Jan-Michel, you really want to help Lee, take these," she handed him the items she'd pilfered from Brad's pockets, along with both Eolia's and Ventriss' swords, "find his car and get out of here."

"You'll take care of her?"

"I will. I'll contact you later, okay?"

He nodded and, before turning to leave, he tossed something at her. "Here, use it with my blessings." He walked back across the park, vanishing into the darkness.

Diandra looked down at the object the Watcher had thrown her and offered up silent thanks for the man's thoughtfulness. Uncapping the liquid accelerator -- a mixture of magnesium flakes suspended in a gelled alcohol, standard issue for Watchers in the field -- she tossed the volatile fluid onto the barely burning body. Adding another couple of lit matches to the pile, she watched as the fire finally caught to her satisfaction and the flames burned brighter and hotter than she could've hoped for. Soon, there would be nothing left of Bradley Ventriss except bad memories and scattered ashes.

* * *

Megan carefully crossed the icy ground. Slipping in a patch of reddened snow and ice earlier had made her cautious. When the fire glow ahead of her became blinding white, she broke into a run. Finding Diandra standing guard over a fallen body, her face set in what appeared to be an emotionless mask lit by the bright fire, the Companion choked back a sob of relief. The slight wind shifted at that moment, blowing the smoke rising from the fire towards her. The bile rose in her throat as she smelled the unmistakable odor of burning flesh. "Dee?"

"Megan."

She approached the Champion, glancing down to see what the Amazon was guarding. At the sight of Lee Eolia's headless form, the woman's head not too far from the body, the neck showing signs of having been hacked at, Megan could no longer control her stomach. 

The light touch of a cool hand on the back of her neck as she heaved into a bush near the edge of the pond helped her to control her reaction. "Oh, Dee… Lee didn't deserve that, no matter what she'd done."

Diandra's voice was cold. "No, she didn't. But Nemesis heard her plea and answered her. Brad Ventriss is dead."

Megan swallowed, trying to rid herself of the vile taste in her mouth. "Where's LaFollet?"

"Taking care of Watcher business." The Amazon's eyes were locked on the fire that was slowly starting to sputter out, having nothing left to consume.

The strange mood Diandra was in bothered Megan, who was expecting more emotion from her. "Dee, Sandy and Jim were here when the second Quickening happened. They're hurt."

She said nothing, just started running towards the fence line where the cars were parked, and where, conveniently, the Sentinel and Guide had fallen, leaving Megan to catch up to her. Diandra never approached the fallen pair after climbing over the fence, just cocked her head in the motion that told the inspector the woman was scanning them with her hearing. "They'll be fine, Pajara. Move your car so I can get out of here. I can hear company coming and I cannot be here when they arrive."

"What? Dee--"

" **Now** , Megan." The order was snarled across the short distance between the two women.

Confused, hurt and pissed, Megan didn't answer the woman who no longer acted like the friend she was. She moved her Chevy as Diandra started up her Jeep and pulled away at a high rate of speed, disappearing around a corner at the end of the docks just as the ambulance pulled onto 34th Street two blocks back in the other direction.

* * *

Captain Simon Banks was a very happy man as he and his son, who looked to have grown a couple of inches since he last saw him, sat at the dining room table participating in a Banks family Christmas tradition, stringing popcorn and cranberries for the tree. Except for the ongoing investigation into the break in and reported theft from QuestScape, the department had had a relatively quiet week. Well, not counting the winter storm that had fouled up the scheduling and phones two days before. 

He'd been able to cut out of the station early, leaving Joel Taggart in charge, and had arrived at the airport to pick up Daryl just as the young man's flight had landed at 4 PM. They'd had an early dinner, nothing fancy since his son had been dying for a pizza from Volari's, then they had popped the dried corn while watching the George C Scott version of Scrooge. The loud ringing of the phone hanging on the kitchen wall shattered their quiet time.

"I'll get it, Dad," Daryl volunteered as he moved towards the phone. "Probably Mom wanting to make sure you haven't throttled me yet." 

Simon chuckled as his son flashed him a brilliant smile, then turned his attention back to pushing a sharp needle through a rather thick cranberry.

"Banks Residence."

"Hey, Daryl! You made it in! That's great!"

"Hi, Rafe. I suppose you're calling for Dad?"

The needle punched through the berry at that moment and, not paying attention, Simon yelped as he speared his thumb. "Yeowch!" 

Daryl couldn't help it, the sight of his father sucking his thumb was funny and he started to chuckle. "Oh, man, that had to have hurt. Dad, Rafe's on the phone for you."

Gently cuffing his tall son on the back of the head, Simon accepted the cordless phone from him and pulled his thumb out of his mouth before answering. "Rafe, this had better be good. I'm off duty until Monday, remember?"

"Yes, sir. It's just that H and I got a strange call from Megan and the more we thought about it, the more we thought you should know."

"Spill it, Rafe."

"Uh, she called asking about the duck pond where Lash worked, said she had to meet an informant but didn't want to wait for H or I to back her up."

The hackles went up on the back of his neck. That part of his city wasn't safe and even the patrols that worked that area were double manned. While Connor was good at taking care of herself, he wondered if she was walking into trouble. The only case that she was actively working was QuestScape. "Damn. You were right to call me, Brian. Keep me posted, I'll be in my unit in a few minutes." He hung up the phone and looked at his son. "Daryl, I'm sorry--"

"Dad, it's okay. It's your job and I really do understand. I'll be fine. Go." He finished up the last of the garland, tying off the end of the long strand and walked over to the tree in the corner of the living room. "Besides, I was wondering if I'd get a chance to let Santa know the coast was clear."

Simon smiled, wondering what he'd ever done to have such an understanding son when Joan never could understand that sometimes his job had to come before family. "I'll try not to be too late. Just make sure you lock up when I leave." He looked down at his clothes, faded jeans stained with red berry juice, red sweatshirt and his ragged, old running shoes. _It'll have to do, not like I'm going to be walking into a crime scene._ The commander of Major Crimes grabbed up his heavy Seattle Seahawks jacket, keys, ID folder and badge, tucked his gun into the holster he hadn't taken off, and headed out the door. Pausing only long enough to hear Daryl slide the deadbolt home, he walked to his sedan.

Pulling out of the driveway, he flipped on the police band radio, listening to the idle chatter between patrol units that were bored by the light traffic and lack of action on Christmas Eve. The Captain was happy for the boredom. It meant that he might actually be able to spend a relaxing holiday visitation with Daryl, who was close to graduating from high school and wanted to look into attending Rainier University the following fall.

// beep//beep//beep//

The three tone alert breaking over the police radio caused Simon to clench his hands around the steering wheel, dreading the words that would shatter the calm evening.

"Officer Down, Officer Requesting back-up and Med-Squad. West 34th, near the old city park. Called in by phone, Officer ID is Zebra 16."

Zebra 16, Inspector Megan Connor's assigned call sign. Simon reached out and grabbed up the microphone from its holder. "Zebra 1, Dispatch, responding code 3." He threw the mic to the seat and flipped the switch on the dash that would activate his emergency lights as he pressed the gas pedal to the fire wall. "Damn it, Connor! What the hell have you gotten yourself into? And who the hell is hurt?"

Dispatch had relayed the information from the ambulance that the power was out for five blocks around the area where they were responding.. A couple of police units confirmed that as they drew closer to the scene. Simon noted the blackout conditions as he pulled onto 34th Street. By the time he stepped out of his sedan, he had spotted the paramedics working on two people on the ground, next to a distinctive blue and white Ford truck. He noted the dark colored Lexus SUV parked close to that. Using the emergency lighting strobing through the dark, he spotted the officer who had made the call to dispatch and approached her. 

"Connor, what the hell happened here?"

"Uh, I got a tip that Ms. Eolia had been contacted by a subject claiming to be the thief that had broken into QuestScape, and that if she wanted to clear her company's name, she was to meet him here at six." 

"And?" he asked quietly, hoping to pull more information out of her.

"I didn't get here in time, sir. Jim and Sandy beat me here, but I did find Ms. Eolia. She's dead, sir. Looks like the same method that killed her husband in Seattle. Shot, then decapitated." Her eyes never wavered off the paramedics who were treating their friends.

Noting how she seemed to be fixated on the treatment of the two fallen men, he wasn't really surprised to see that it was Sandburg and Ellison. He chose to stand beside her and watch the paramedics work on his men. Once they were loaded up, and he knew which hospital they were heading to, he placed a quick phone call to Joel Taggart, quietly asking the man to meet the ambulance at the hospital and to see what he could find out from the staff there. 

When the inspector turned to face him finally, he never had a chance to say a word before she spoke. "The scene's a real mess, Captain. I'm not sure we'll ever be able to tell what happened to Ms. Eolia."

"Can you tell me what happened to Ellison and Sandburg?"

She shook her head. "No, they were like that when I arrived, sir."

Simon Banks wasn't sure if he fully believed her or not. She'd been hanging around Sandburg for a while. The student was a great teacher and Obfuscation 101 was a favorite subject. "Maybe the staff at Cas-Gen will be able to figure out what happened to them. In the meantime, show me the scene. You said Ms Eolia was shot and decapitated?"

"Yes, sir. Uh, the scene's a real--"

"Mess, you said that already, Connor. I'm not exactly wearing my best shoes, lead on."

Connor had greatly understated the devastation of the crime scene. There was blood everywhere, bright red stains on snow that had been disturbed by a lot of busy feet. It looked like a damn war zone with all the spilt blood and blackened or scorched trees and playground equipment. When he was shown the body of the WindHawk Securities owner, he had to clamp down hard on his body's reaction to seeing the once vibrant woman lying on the ground like a broken doll. 

The M.E. on call, Dan Wolfe, was taking his preliminary notes and trying hard not to contaminate the crime scene himself. Hearing the snow crunching under approaching feet, Dan stood up to face the visitor. "Captain Banks."

"Dan, what can you tell me?"

"Not much, yet. Cause of death appears to be decapitation, but she was also gut shot. Either would've killed her and the decapitation was a real hack job. A sharp instrument, maybe a long blade or ax, was used, but the perpetrator had to strike twice to complete the job. Nasty way to go if she was still alive when it happened." He motioned to his two assistants to move in and bag the body as he walked back to the other part of the scene that was bugging him. 

Simon followed the ME and noticed the burned area the doctor stopped at. "What the heck happened here?"

Dan bent down and carefully scooped up a sample of the ash and placed it in an evidence bag. "I'm not sure. I'll have to analyze the ash to find out what was burned here and when." He put a hand, still gloved in latex, over the center of the burn area. "Still a little warm, so it's recent. Maybe a homeless person was camped here before whatever happened went down."

"Then we might have a witness. Let me know as soon as you can find out, Dan. And I hate to ask this of you, but can you put a rush on the autopsy of Ms. Eolia? Her husband was killed in a similar manner a few months ago down in Seattle."

"Assassination or serial killer?"

Simon shuddered. "God, I hope not. I don't think Cascade could put up with another serial killer."

Dan stripped off his exam gloves, placing them in another evidence bag to preserve them and shook his head. "I hear that. I'll get started on the post mortum examination of the victim as soon as I get back to the office."

The captain watched as the M.E. walked toward the van where the remains were being loaded and moaned as he saw the news vans pulling up. Maybe he should let Connor talk to the press? No, it was his responsibility. He'd hear from the Chief and the Commissioner about his appearance, but they'd have to understand he was called from home and didn't exactly have time to climb back into his suit and tie. "Let the circus begin," he muttered under his breath as he slowly walked to where the patrolmen who'd responded were holding the press back from the crime scene.

* * *

Dee drove slowly back to her loft, barely controlling the Quickening energy that surged through her. She'd hated to leave Blair and Jim like that, but there was nothing she could have done for them in the state she was in. She could just as easily killed them as healed them. 

Parking her car outside the loft, she got out and went upstairs. She cleaned her blade immediately, years of battle training having taught her that weapons care was the first step to keeping her head. Exchanging her customary boots for track shoes, she discarded her coat, changed into a sweatshirt, and headed out again. Hitting the street, she began to run, quickly settling into a ground covering lope, forcing her thoughts to concentrate on her stride, her breathing, the scenery rushing by, anything but that evening's terrible events. She closed her mind to the vision of her lover's face, the bruises Lia had inflicted upon him standing out in stark relief against his pale skin. And poor Jim, zoned on the Quickening energy surging through his partner. 

She shook her head. They would be fine; their senses were just overloaded. Staying to help them wouldn't have been of benefit to anyone if she'd been found at the scene. Banks wouldn't have any reason not to arrest her for Eolia's death, and there would be no rescue in the nick of time by the FBI on this occasion. Better she left than have to explain her bloodstained appearance and why she was holding a bloody sword standing over a decapitated corpse. A grim smile crossed her face. She hoped Megan was a good tap dancer, because she was going to have to come up with one hell of a story to explain what happened.

An hour later, Diandra returned to her apartment, not completely drained, but enough of the edge burned off that she didn't feel like she was bouncing off the walls. Grabbing the phone, she punched in Megan's cell number. At her companion's sharp "Connor," she said, "It's me. Where did they take Blair and Jim? I want to head over there."

"Cas-Gen. But I just spoke to Joel. He said they were insisting on going home, so as soon as they can check themselves out, that's where they'll be heading. Probably would get to the loft by the time you made it to the hospital."

"Okay, Pajara, I'll wait here for them." Hanging up the phone, she took a look at the remains of her living room. The coffee table was done for, so was the throw rug. And for the second time in two days there was a pool of drying blood that needed mopped up. Sighing, Dee grabbed the cleaning supplies from the kitchen and went to work.

* * *

Dee had just dumped the last bucket of dirty water down the drain, and was bagging the sponges and towels she'd used to clean the blood from the floor when she heard the elevator ding, indicating its arrival on the third floor. Voices reached her ears, one of them Blair's, though it was soft and slightly slurred. Stripping off the rubber gloves she'd been wearing, she dropped them into the trash too, and headed for the door. Opening it, she found Joel Taggart juggling both Sentinel and Guide while trying to get the door to 307 open. 

"Oh my god. What happened?" she said, feigning surprise for the captain's benefit while smoothly relieving him of Blair. She slid an arm around his waist gently, feeling him lean against her, his eyes half-closed.

"Ang'l?"

"Right here, baby." 

"Hmm...h'rts...wh're's Jim?"

"He's right here too, sweetheart. Joel's just getting the door open, and then we'll see about putting you to bed."

"'kay." He started to slide down her body, and, afraid to squeeze him too tightly, she simply scooped him up with a grunt. 

"Damn, Lobo, you've put on weight."

Joel had finally gotten the door open and, after helping Jim inside, he turned around to give Dee a hand. She shook her head and, turning sideways, carried Blair through the door and across the loft to his bedroom. She set him down gently on the bed, very glad they had come back to the loft that morning and finished cleaning up the broken glass, as well as having a repairman replace the window. Sitting down next to him on the futon, she began to work on his shoelaces.

Taggart poked his head in the door. "Everything under control in here?"

She looked up at him. "Yeah, we're fine. I'm just going to put him to bed. What happened?"

The big man shrugged. "I'm not sure. He says Ms. Eolia beat him up in your apartment, but he and Jim were both found unconscious clear across town. They went by ambulance to the hospital, and released themselves AMA. They're both pretty doped up."

"That would explain the mess I found when I got home. I just figured I'd had another break-in." She dropped one sneaker on the floor and started on the other. "You know, Joel, I think I have it covered here. I'll make sure they both get to bed, and stay with them the rest of the night."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, Joel, I'm sure. It's--" she glanced at the clock on the bedside table. "--Christmas morning. Go home, be with your family."

"Well, okay, but only since you're sure. Lock the door when I leave, all right?"

Dee nodded her response, and the man left Blair's bedroom. She could hear him talking quietly to Jim as she undressed Blair and managed to get him under the covers. Leaning over, she kissed his forehead tenderly, and was just about to leave when he said, "Dee?"

"Yes, honey?"

"S'rry bout Lee...if I'd st'pped 'er, she wouldn't be..." The blue eyes gazing up at her were cloudy with both physical and emotional pain.

She bent back over him, hugging him gently. "Not your fault, baby. Nobody's fault, just the quirks of the Game. She knew the risks when she went to meet him."

"But--"

"No. If there's any blame to be placed, it goes on my shoulders. Now close your eyes and go to sleep, Lobo." She'd apologize tomorrow for leaving him lying in the snow back at the park, unconscious.

His eyelids drooping, Blair gave her a big yawn. She sat with him for the few minutes it took for him to go to sleep, listening to Joel leave, and the sounds of the sentinel moving around quietly in the next room. She tucked the blanket a little closer around Blair and got to her feet. She was almost out of the room when it dawned on her Jim didn't know what had happened at the park. Blair knew what the two Quickenings meant, but Jim had no idea Eolia was dead.

Steeling herself, she entered the other room, quickly locating Jim leaning against the counter in the kitchen, his eyes closed, a bottle of water forgotten in his hand. Dee approached him slowly, not wanting to add to the pain she could see in the lines around his eyes. But it was better the news come from her. "Jim..."

His head swiveled toward the sound of her voice, and his eyes opened slowly. "How is he?"

"Asleep. He'll be fine. I'll help him in the morning."

Ellison took a small sip of water. "Thanks." There was a pause as he drank a little more. 

She found herself just blurting it out. "I'm so sorry, Jim."

He blinked at her quizzically. "About what? Did you see Lee? Is she okay?"

She felt her insides clench, and she brought a hand up to her mouth to hold back the scream she feared was just below the surface. Blinking back tears, she finally replied, "She's gone, Jim. I didn't get there in time."

The color drained from the sentinel's face, then he shook his head. "No, you have to be mistaken. She can't be gone."

Diandra had to force the words past her unwilling tongue. Some part of her thought that if she didn't say them, it wouldn't be true. "He took her head, Jim. She's gone."

His face grew even paler, and she could hear him take a shaky breath. "Took her head?"

Tears were rolling down her cheeks. "She was Immortal. I'm so sorry."

The bottle of water dropped to the floor as Jim pushed roughly past her and into the bathroom. She tried to close her ears to the noise of him being sick, but her hearing was suddenly wide open, and she heard every agonizing sound. Sliding down the front of the fridge, she leaned her forehead on her knees, very aware of the fact she was shaking violently.

The toilet flushed, water ran in the sink, then footsteps approached her. She didn't bother to look up, not wanting to see the accusation in his eyes. 

His words, when they came, were sharp. "How old was she? Was she a student of yours?"

As if she would let a student fight in her stead willingly. She shot him an angry glare. "She was my age. She was the first Immortal I ever met. I rescued her from a life of slavery and sacrifice."

Something in her expression must have affected him, because he extended a hand to her. Grasping it, she allowed him to pull her to her feet. "Dee, please. Tell me about her. I need to know."

She shook her head. "Not tonight, Jim. I can't do this tonight. It hurts too much and we're both exhausted." She gave him a push toward the stairs. "Upstairs. Bed." She walked with him as far as the couch, then watched him climb unsteadily. 

He paused halfway up, looking back over his shoulder at her. "She died well, didn't she? Just tell me that, and I'll try to sleep."

Diandra chewed her lip for a moment, then said, "She died trying to protect Blair and me." He didn't need to know she had lost her life trying to teach Brad a lesson. Lia never had understood you couldn't teach a dead man anything. She watched him climb the rest of the way to his room and listened to him lay down on the bed. Within a few moments, his breathing evened out, and she knew he was asleep. 

Tiptoeing up the stairs, Dee found him passed out on top of the bedspread. She snagged a blanket from the closet and draped it over him. Going back downstairs, she wrapped herself in the afghan from the back of the loveseat and curled up on the sofa. 

Sleep, however, eluded her. Memories flooded her mind, moments from thousands of years past suddenly as fresh as if they had happened yesterday. Tears forced their way between closed eyelids, blazing hot trails down her cheeks. Rolling onto her back, she stared at the ceiling, ignoring the emotions churning inside her. This was ridiculous! She'd lost friends before, mortal and Immortal, to the Game, old age, disease, war. People lived and died around her every day, just as they always had. Why then, did it hurt so much tonight?

Because it could have been you, the voice inside her whispered, despite your long life, your experience, your skills. A twist of fate, and it could be you lying in the morgue. 

"Angel?" It was the barest of whispers, but she heard it clearly. "I know you're hurting, Dee. I can feel what you're going through. You don't have to be alone."

Rising she walked into Blair's room to find him propped up on the pillows, his eyes shining in the darkness, his expression one of love and concern. He patted the space next to him on the small bed. She lay down beside him, leaning her cheek against his shoulder and carefully wrapping an arm around his waist at his urging. 

"Even though you parted ways years ago, angel, Eolia was an important part of your life, an important part of who you are. It's okay to grieve, to let it out. You're safe here with me." He ran his fingers lightly over her cheek, and she gave in to the pain she was feeling, sobbing quietly against his shoulder until she fell into an exhausted sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

Lafollet didn't want to leave, but he had a few more jobs to do if he was going to successfully close the Chronicle on Eolia. Looking at the set of keys Diandra had handed him, he noted the worn emblem on one of the fobs. Climbing over the fence that surrounded the park, he started looking for a car that would match up with the keys in his hand. A block and a half away from where Lee had parked the Lexus, he found it: a beat up, raggedy-looking, dark-colored AMC Gremlin. Oh well, Immortals that didn't have much in the way of liquid assets couldn't be too choosy. Opening the driver's side door, he slipped in behind the wheel, pushed the seat back as far as it could go, started the engine and, placing the manual transmission into first gear, took off.

After he'd been driving the wreck of a car for ten minutes, maybe more, he pulled into a closed gas station's well lit parking area and started going through the car, looking for anything that would tell him where Bradley Ventriss had been holed up for the past week. 

The young, now dead, Immortal hadn't been the neatest of people, leaving trash in the car to pile up until the interior looked like a pack-rat's haven. But his search did turn up several matchbooks, all stamped with the logo Ranch-O-Motel. "More like Roach-O, if the inside of this car is any indication." 

Pulling out his Watcher issued cell phone, he made what would be his first phone call of many. "Brianna? Sorry for calling so late, I need your help."

Brianna Stertz was able to give him the address to the motel and, after thanking her and promising a full report by Thursday evening, he started the Gremlin back up and headed for it. One of the other items that Diandra Pallas had handed him had been a large old-fashioned key with the number "13" stamped into the metal.

"Just what I thought it would look like," Jan-Michel muttered under his breath as he pulled into the parking lot of the Ranch-O-Motel. The buildings had seen better days, but not in the past several years and most of the rooms at either end of the horseshoe shaped building were obviously abandoned. Windows on several of the units were boarded up and the few cars that were parked there--well, the Gremlin fit right in. Parking outside of the door marked with a crooked, hand-painted 13, he got out of the car and approached the door as if he belonged there. 

The key fit and, with a twist of his wrist, LaFollet entered the unit and flipped on the lights. He almost wished he hadn't. The place was just as messy, if not more so, than the inside of the car had been. "Well it's obvious you never had to clean up after yourself, Brad. But, if I were you, and was the thief that stole the DVD-RAM from your father's company, where would I hide it?"

Wishing that he'd had the foresight to bring along a pair of latex gloves, Jan-Michel LaFollet started to toss the pig-sty of a room, looking for the drive that could clear his boss' name and maybe sink QuestScape once and for all.

His search of the main room turned up nothing except a rat's nest, complete with little baby rats, and a whole colony of roaches. Turning his sights on the bathroom, Jan smiled. "Oh, you wouldn't have been that stupid, would you, Bradley?"

Like the rest of the hotel, the bathroom had seen better days. The mirror above the rust-stained sink was cracked, barely hanging on the wall, and the once white tiles on the floor were worn through in several spots. Lifting the lid on the back of the toilet, peering down into the blackened tank, he found what he was looking for. Flushing the commode to drain the tank, he pulled the plastic wrapped item out.

Pulling a pocketknife from his trouser pocket, he slit the plastic open and unwrapped the item concealed inside. The box shaped DVD-RAM, complete with the QuestScape logo on the front, sat inside the wrap. Being very careful not to touch the device with his bare hands, Jan-Michel folded the plastic around it once more and left the hovel.

Recalling his conversation with his boss in the Watcher organization, he pondered whether or not to turn the drive over to Brianna Stertz, who'd turn it over to her contacts in the Department of Defense. Or should he hand it over to the detectives working the break-in at QuestScape, Connor and Ellison? Glancing at his watch, he decided to cruise by the park to see if, after two hours, the police were done there. If they weren't, he'd ditch the Gremlin within six blocks of the Econo-Lodge and rest until morning, when he'd make his decision.

He spotted the flashing emergency lights before he got within two blocks of the place where Lee Eolia had died. Turning away from the scene, he headed back to his hotel. He wanted a drink, to wash the grief away, or to drown it out, but he'd made a promise to Lee. And even though the woman was gone, he wouldn't break his word.

* * *

Megan got off the elevator on the third floor, trudging down the hall to Dee's loft. She knew she probably should have headed home from the station, but she was exhausted, and her friend's place was fifteen minutes from the PD, and her's was thirty in the other direction. Digging through her purse, she came up with her keys and unlocked the door. Walking inside, she was surprised to see the place had been restored to its neat appearance, minus the coffee table and rug. Cleaning up the evidence, she thought. _Like you're one to judge._ She'd done her own share of lying to hide what had really happened that night. Hell, she really didn't know what had happened. She'd answered all of Banks' questions with "I don't know." To add to the confusion, Jan-Michel had never returned, and Megan really didn't want to know what Dee had been burning. She had her suspicions, but....

Sighing, she crossed the studio and climbed the stairs to Dee's room. From the illumination coming through the skylight, she could tell the bed hadn't been slept in. Okay, where in the hell was she, if she wasn't here? If Dee had run out on her--she shook her head. Dee was probably across the hall with Blair and Jim. Oh, god, Jim! How would he take the news of Eolia's death? They'd seemed pretty cozy when she'd seen them the night before. Going back downstairs, she crossed the hall to 307.

Letting herself in, she paused for a moment in the darkened loft, getting her bearings. She peeked into Blair's room first, finding her missing champion curled up next to the guide, both sleeping peacefully. As long as she was here, she might as well check on Jim. Climbing the stairs quietly, she paused at the top, letting her eyes adjust. Jim was stretched out on the bed, covered with a blanket, looking like he'd fallen asleep where he'd dropped and hadn't moved since. Tomorrow was going to be a hell of a day. 

Megan left the apartment and crossed the hall again. Climbing into bed in the guest room, she was soon asleep.

* * *

The sound of labored breathing woke Dee the next morning. She rose up on one elbow, gazing worriedly at Blair. Damn it! She knew she should have gone back out to the couch. During the night she'd assumed her usual position in bed with him, sprawled over his chest. Blair, in his drugged sleep, hadn't woken up to push her off. Now he strained to breathe through the ache of his broken ribs and bruised sternum. Though still asleep, his face was lined with pain.

Better to do this now, while he was out. Sitting up, Dee held her hands over his chest, pushing her Quickening through her fingers and into his body, selectively healing the damage to his ribs while leaving the brilliant purple and green bruising on his face alone. Too many people had seen him last night for her to erase that injury. She heard him moaning softly as she worked, but whatever drugs he'd been given at the hospital continued to do their work, and he didn't waken. When she finished, the lines were gone from his face, and he was breathing much easier.

Getting out of bed, Dee stretched and looked at the clock. 11:30 am. Damn, she rarely ever slept this late. She extended her hearing, checking on Jim. She smiled at the sound of his soft snores, then her grin faded. Today was not going to be fun. Somehow celebrating the holiday and happily exchanging gifts seemed hypocritical in light of the things she'd done the night before. Penance was more in order. A long, hard workout and a couple hours meditation might help her get over the unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Exiting Jim's apartment, she crossed the hall to her own, automatically reaching for the sword she wasn't carrying at a noise from her kitchen. Megan appeared around the corner, a cup of tea in her hand. "Bloody hell, Dee! Make some noise, would you?"

Relaxing a fraction, Dee shrugged, then headed into the studio, still intent on doing a few katas. "Sorry, didn't realize you came back here last night. What time did you get in?"

Megan followed the older woman into the studio and sat down cross-legged on a bench, taking a sip of her tea. "About one am. I found the three of you asleep and just decided to go ahead and crash over here without disturbing you."

Dee began a series of stretches, knowing there was probably more on her companion's mind, but not eager to answer any questions about the night before. She moved into a half-speed kata, waiting for Megan to continue. After several minutes of silence, her patience was rewarded.

"What in the hell happened last night, Dee? Why did you go tearing off when Jim and Sandy were obviously hurt?"

The Immortal turned from facing the mirrors to facing Megan, but continued smoothly through her routine. "What did you expect me to do? I've just killed Ventriss, I'm covered in my own blood, am carrying a bloody sword, and you want me to stay around while the police show up? Even without my being there, I know I'm the prime suspect in Captain Banks' mind."

Megan frowned. "Yeah, he did mention it was awfully convenient that you weren't there."

Dee did a series of standing side kicks. "He's not stupid. I'm sure he knows I'm involved in some way, shape, or form."

"Well, he didn't get anything from me. I feel like I'm still in the dark here. Were you ever going to tell me what was going on between you and Lee Eolia? Or that she was immortal?" Her words were hard, accusing.

"It wasn't any of your business, Pajara." 

Setting her mug down, Megan got to her feet, her hands clenched at her sides. "Wasn't any of my business? She could have taken your bloody head yesterday afternoon, and you're telling me it's none of my business! Why the hell is it Sandy's business, not mine? I'm your Companion for Christ's sake, not him!"

Sighing, Dee interrupted her kata to face the other woman. "Blair's a Watcher. Immortals are his business, as they are mine. You are neither a Watcher, nor immortal. It didn't concern you."

Megan flushed bright red. "So I'm only your Companion, your **partner** when it suits you, when it doesn't have to do with Immortals, is that it? So what if I happen to have a stake in this partnership thing too, so what if it would hurt me if you went off one day and lost your head because I wasn't there to assist you?"

"Pajara, that's not going to happen, and you can't interfere in the Game, that's the whole point--"

"The fuck it isn't! Don't lie to me! The only reason Ventriss beat Lee was because he cheated, because he shot her. Tell me that can't happen to you!"

Dee frowned, feeling the first stirrings of anger. "I'm not going to tell you it can't happen, but Lee lost her head because she lost her temper. Judging by the battleground, she played with him, toyed with him until he was able to turn the fight to his advantage. I don't know how he got the gun past her, but he did. The point is it shouldn't have gotten that far. You disarm your opponent, you take their head, you live to fight another day."

"Is that what you did?" Megan spat between clenched teeth.

"Yes."

"While he was still recovering from the effects of a Quickening? I've asked Sandy questions; I know living through that kind of fireworks takes a hell of a lot out of you. So you took his head while he was down, unable to fight back. You executed him."

Dee narrowed her eyes. "Yes. He didn't play by the rules. I couldn't let him kill anyone else, not you, not Blair, not Jim. And that's where he was headed. You didn't hear his message. You don't know what he was going to do. I did. I took care of the threat to my family. It wasn't the first time I've done it, and it probably won't be the last."

"What if all he wanted to do was take Eolia out, then get the hell out of Cascade? Dee, you played judge, jury and executioner with him. How can I even know you're the same person I've come to care about?" 

Folding her arms across her chest, Dee looked away from Megan for a long moment, then said sharply, "You're right. You don't know me. I'm 2,800 years old. The part of me you think you know would fit on the head of a pin. The oldest, strongest, basest part of me is a warrior to the core. I live in your world of laws and lawyers, but your laws don't apply, can't apply to Immortal versus Immortal. Sometimes we have to dispense justice on our own kind because you can't. And that can get violent and messy. I am a part of the Game whether I like it or not. It is something I have to do alone, no matter how much you want to help." 

She let her breath out slowly, willing the ire to fade. She didn't want to be angry at Megan. She was angry at herself. If she had been more on the ball, if she had been paying more attention to Lee, considered her as the wild card she was, then Lia would still be alive, and they wouldn't be residing in hell right now. 

Megan's hand on her shoulder was gentle, but Dee was in no mood to be touched. She whirled toward the other woman, barely pulling her blow. Megan's eyes widened, but she managed to block the punch, then threw one of her own. Dee ducked and kicked. The companion kicked back, and they traversed the length of the studio, joined in full speed, full contact sparring. 

After a few minutes, Megan stepped out of the battle, holding her stomach, gesturing she wanted a breather. She bent over, resting her hands on her knees, gulping air. She gazed up at Dee, her flashing eyes indicating the argument wasn't over. "So what am I supposed to do? Run around after you and clean up your messes? Smooth things over with the authorities?"

Dee bounced in place, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "I never asked you to lie for me, Pajara. You're free to tell Banks whatever you want."

"Oh, yeah, right. That just guarantees I'm gonna have to make up some lie, because he sure as hell isn't going to believe what really happened last night. And if I did tell him the truth, and by some miracle he believed me, I've forced you into disappearing." Shaking her head, she went after the Immortal again, her punches quickly blocked. "You've made me a bloody accessory after the fact!"

Shrugging, Diandra aimed a kick at Megan's head. "Sorry. I'm not holding you here against your will. You're free to end this partnership anytime you like." The other woman froze at her words, and Dee hastily aborted her kick to keep from injuring her. "Pajara?"

Megan ran a shaking hand over her face. "Is it that easy for you? You can just take off any time, forget about what we've started here, leave me behind? Because I thought we had a commitment to this champion/companion thing--"

Dee realized her words had deeply hurt her partner. "No, Pajara, I am committed. It's just--you didn't know the whole story when you agreed to be my companion. Now that you know what I am, have seen part of my dark side, I figure you ought to get a chance to back out, seeing as this is not what you signed on for."

Shaking her head, Megan replied, "No, it's not, but it's too late now. I'm here for the duration." 

Diandra held out her hand to the other woman, and when she took it, Dee pulled her into a tight embrace. She was about to speak when the phone rang.

* * *

Joe Dawson settled back on his couch facing his visitor, wondering why Adam Pierson had decided to accept the invitation to spend the holiday at his home. Christmas was often a time of loneliness for many, and those who had lived through as many years as Adam had, the holiday only served to emphasize how few friends he really had in the world. "Adam, what's the story between you and Eolia? Before you try to tell me there isn't one, don't forget, I saw the way you treated her at my bar the other night."

Methos smiled wearily at his friend as he sipped the bottled microbrew beer he'd been given. "We have a little history together, that's all."

"From the smile on your face, it must have been a good history." 

"It was, until she got tired of me one night and stabbed me through the heart." Adam chuckled over the memory. "It would have been easier for her to confront me in the city center, announce to the citizens she was divorcing me, but no... not Eolia. She had to do things her way."

Listening to the tone of the man's voice, Joe could tell that no matter what else had happened between the two Immortals, Methos still carried some feelings for the woman known as Lee Eolia. "So? Now that you know where she is, you just going to let her slip through your fingers?"

"She's grieving, Joe. Even I have some scruples. Besides, she's interested in the detective she danced the tango with." He took another pull on the cold bottle in his hand.

"Uh, huh. It's never easy for Immortals, is it?" Joe had seen what losing Tessa had done to Duncan MacLeod, what losing Alexa had nearly done to Adam. It was rare that two Immortals would hook up for as long as Lee Eolia and Azir el'Sadih had. 

"No, it's not. But the love is worth it, Joe." Picking up the TV remote from the coffee table he gestured towards the television with it. "Mind?"

"Go ahead, Adam. Everything's ready, we're just waiting for Duncan to show up." The smells emanating from the kitchen, where Joe had worked on a simple, but hearty, Christmas dinner, were enticing and if MacLeod didn't show up soon, Joe was determined to start the meal without him.

Adam clicked on the television and started to flip through the channels, only to stop and turn the volume down when Joe's phone rang. He'd managed to stop on a local station that was actually broadcasting news. Interested, Adam slowly brought the volume back up and scooted his chair closer to the tv to better hear the newscast without interfering with Joe's conversation.

Joe reached over and picked up the ringing phone. It was his secure line, the one that only rang when some Immortal had lost his or her head and one of the field agents were reporting in. "Dawson."

"Joe? Two down last night, fairly quick, and Diandra did something I've never seen her do." The woman's voice was almost fearful.

Sitting up straighter on his couch, Joe flipped on a recorder and started the tape. "Judy, I'm recording, give me your report."

The woman's voice shook at first, slowly becoming stronger as she related the previous night's events. "Diandra had taken two people up as her guests, I didn't recognize either of them, but I feel that one might have been Immortal. Anyway, last night I witnessed one of the guests, a woman who'd left the night before under strange circumstances, return. I couldn't see directly into Pallas' apartment, but something happened in there, I'm pretty sure of that. This woman left about an hour later. She walked out to where her companion was waiting and she shot him, point blank range. My god, I've never seen anything like that, Joe!"

Joe tried to maintain his professional detachment, but something inside him was screaming that maybe Diandra was dead, as well as LaFollet. Eolia was a wild card, one with a hell of a temper according to the download he'd received from the East Coast office, and no one was really sure what her state of mind was since losing her husband. "Judy, calm down. Take a deep breath and just let the story flow. We can always clean up the record later."

"You're right, okay. This woman, with dark auburn hair, shot her companion, pulled him out of sight and took off. I waited, wondering what was happening, and about ninety minutes later, Diandra comes out of her home, looking like she's on the warpath again." Judy's voice quaked, and Joe recalled the last time that her Immortal had gone hunting. "Anyway, I followed her and witnessed the first of two Quickening storms. The woman who had left Diandra's place was dead. An unknown Immortal man was standing over her, absorbing the Quickening, which told me the unknown female had been Immortal herself. I wasn't aware that there were more Immortals here in Cascade other than Diandra."

"At least two more, Judy. But it didn't look like they were a threat to Diandra, and you know she can take care of herself." Good Lord, Joe thought to himself, Eolia and LaFollet dead? 

Judy continued, interrupting her boss's thoughts. "After the first Q-Storm was over, Diandra walked up to the survivor and, after she disarmed him, she simply executed him. She's never done anything like that before, I know, I've been pouring over her Chronicles all night, looking to see if she had."

That didn't sound like the Diandra that Joe knew either. "Judy, as soon as you can email your report to me. Along with any pictures that you might have gotten of the other two Immortals--"

"My god! That's **her**! The Immortal from last night!" Diandra's Watcher nearly screamed into the phone, "Joe! Turn your TV to Channel 11 out of Cascade, they're showing her picture! The lady Immortal from last night! Oh, my god."

Adam was halfway listening to Joe's conversation, wondering which Immortal, or was it two, had lost their head last night. He wondered if he knew them. Sighing, he flipped through the channels again, not in the mood to watch American football or any of the many movies being shown. He'd just passed one station, the one with the news on it, when his mind screamed to return to it as he realized he saw someone he knew on the screen. 

There, staring out at him, was Lee Eolia. He turned up the sound just as Joe asked him to change the channel to number 35. "Already there."

"Following up on the story that broke late last night, Channel 11 News has discovered the name of the female victim of one of the most bizarre murders in Cascade's history. Police officials have identified the woman, pictured here on your screens, as Lee Eolia. Ms. Eolia was the president of WindHawk Securities International, based out of Rochester, New York. Her death comes just over three months after her husband, Azir El'Sadih, was found murdered in a back alley in Seattle. Preliminary reports indicate that both may have been the victims of an assassin with unusual methods. As we get more details on this strange case, we'll pass them on to you. Now, in other news, the blackout that struck last night has crews from King County Power totally baffled--"

"Judy, I'll call you back later." Joe hung up the phone and glanced over at Methos, who appeared to be in shock. "Adam, I'm sorry...."

_Methos came out of the clan chief's tent, satisfied with the deal he'd just struck with the man for eight more horses, and nearly got run over by a fast moving girl child. Deftly moving aside, he watched as the child entered the tent, her wild red hair flying in the afternoon breeze of the Steppes._

_"Eol! Watch your manners!" The clan chief called into the tent after the child, then turned to face the man who had promised four bags of gold in exchange for his horses. "Methos, I must apologize for my daughter; she's usually not that wild."_

_"Quite all right, Sceolan. Children will be children."_

_Sceolan nodded and then looked towards the east, where the winds were blowing. "It's the winds. Every time they blow in from that direction, Eolia gets as wild as them."_

_Methos nodded, not really understanding what the clan chief was saying, but he didn't want to offend the man who supplied such high quality horses. "I should go see to my friends." He clasped the huge, red-haired man's arm in a warrior's hand shake._

_"You and your men are more than welcome to join my family this evening."_

_Several hours later, Methos and Kronos got into one of their increasingly frequent arguments._

_"Methos, she's one of us! I say we take her now, and all the horses!"_

_"No! She's too young! The Celtoi are one of the few horse tribes that will deal with us, and that child is the chief's daughter! You want to have this whole tribe rise up against us?"_

_Kronos smiled sickeningly. "Like they could stop us?"_

_Backhanding the man to the ground, Methos drew his sword and rested it under his friend's chin, pricking the soft flesh of the exposed throat. "No, but I might. I've seen the way the Celtoi fight, they like to behead their victims, much like us. Or didn't you notice the ball that the other children were playing with?" The warrior on the ground paled a bit. "So you did notice that it was a human skull. Good. The child is off limits, is that understood?" Kronos nodded, accepting the defeat and the orders. Turning his attention back to the Celtoi encampment, Methos spotted the chief's young daughter and mentally wished her luck._

Oh, damn. Why Eolia? "Joe, who took her out? I want their name."

"I can't do that! You know that, Methos!"

"I'll find out on my own then." He stood up from his chair and began pacing the living room. "I didn't save her from Kronos only to have her be cut down later in life. She was a natural fighter; she shouldn't have been taken so easily." Adam was concerned. Eolia had been one of his wives, his best and brightest of Students, and she was gone. Another of his Students who had fallen in the Game; maybe he wasn't such a good Teacher. Then a sickening thought occurred to him. "It was Diandra who killed Eolia, wasn't it?"

"No. It wasn't Dee! She took the man's head right after he'd taken Eolia's Quickening, basically executing him. It's over, Methos!"

Adam stopped dead in his tracks, sinking into a different chair, letting the shock and grief flow through him like a cleansing fire. After he felt he had his emotions under some semblance of control, he looked over at Joe sitting on the couch. "Do you happen to have Dee's phone number? I'd like to call her, find out what happened." He tried to ignore the tingle in his mind that meant Immortal nearby, knowing it could only be one person.

Joe nodded and handed the cordless phone over to him along with his address book. "It's listed under Diandra's first name."

"Thanks, Joe." Finding the listing, he quickly dialed the number as the older Watcher stood up to enter the kitchen, only to be called to the front door by the 'shave and hair cut, two bits' knocking that had to be Duncan MacLeod arriving.

* * *

Morning came too quickly for him. LaFollet grabbed the offending alarm clock and threw it against the wall to turn it off. Flopping back on the too soft mattress, he tried to shut down his mind again. The memories of Lee and Azir Sadih had kept him from sleeping, as had the nightmare where it had been Lee, and not Diandra, who had run him through with her sword as she told him she didn't love him. No use, he just could not shut his brain off. Stumbling out of bed, he padded over toward the table where he'd placed the stolen data drive and picked up the phone. 

"Major Crimes, Detective Jorgenson."

"I'd like to speak with Inspector Connor." 

"She's not in today, sir. Can I take a message or help you in some way?"

"No thanks, it's personal business." He hung up before the detective could ask any more questions. Christmas morning. If everything had gone according to plan, if Eolia hadn't died, or the security check at QuestScape had gone smoothly, he and his boss would've been back home this morning. Azir and Lee had always had a huge family get together for their single employees on major holidays. While neither one of them were practicing Christians, Christmas was always very special to them and they shared that special time with their adopted family, the WindHawk Security teams. 

Pushing away the thoughts of Christmases past, Jan made his choice. He'd shower, get ready to leave town, then hand over the disc drive to Connor or Ellison. Heck, maybe he'd even ask Pallas if she knew of any Immortals in the country that would be willing to take on a new student. After all, his teacher was dead and he really needed the help.

* * *

Adam nodded towards Duncan MacLeod as Joe let the other Immortal into his home. Adam waited for his call to Cascade, Washington to go through. The line finally cleared, and the ringing started on the other end. After three rings, the line was picked up.

"Hello?"

"Diandra, Methos. I just heard about Eolia. Are you okay?" He tried to block out the whispered conversation going on behind his back as Joe Dawson updated Duncan on the day's news.

"I'm fine, Adam. Why did you call?"

He closed his eyes, trying to hold back images from happier times. "Dee, she was my wife. For a while, anyway. She was also one of my students. She deserves a proper funeral, on Holy Ground, and I'd like to take her back to her tribal homeland."

"Oh, Goddess! I didn't know that you had been her Teacher. Adam, I'm so sorry. As for the funeral, I haven't even thought about that." Adam thought he detected a hint of shocked sadness and grief in the Immortal Amazon's voice.

"Let me help, please, for Eolia's sake." He knew some of the Celtoi's funeral rites, but not all of them. The silence on the other end of the phone disturbed him for a moment, until Diandra finally spoke up again.

"Adam, I'm not even sure I know a place where we could hold the rites. Eolia died a warrior's death, saving myself and others, and while she ultimately lost the fight, she deserves to have the Amazon within her honored."

Looking over at MacLeod, Adam started to get an idea. "Amazon, eh? Funeral pyre, the whole nine yards?"

"Yes."

"See what you can do to get her body released to you. I'll see what I can do on this end. If I can arrange it, I'll call you back in a few hours."

"Okay. Adam?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. Seems like we both lost someone we cared about last night." 

He couldn't help but notice Diandra didn't say good-bye, or wish him happy holidays, just hung up on him. Slowly placing the handset back in the cradle, he looked up to find the dark haired Scot staring at him across the living room. "What?"

Duncan quirked a sad smile at his oldest friend. "Dee's okay?" Adam didn't answer, just nodded. "And the woman that lost her head, Lee Eolia? She was one of your students, as well as one of your wives?"

"Yes, she was. Duncan, I hate to ask... " He halted as the Highlander held up his hand.

"Methos, if you and Diandra need to use the island to honor your friend, you don't have to ask. Just let me know when, and I'll arrange things with the local authorities." 

"Thank you, MacLeod." Adam Pierson stood up, crossed the floor and clasped the Scotsman's shoulder in a friendly grip. 

"Think nothing of it, Old Man. Now, unless we get our butts out to the dining room, Joe's going to start without us and we'll have nothing but bones to pick over." Duncan led his fellow Immortal out of the living room.

"Can you arrange for us to use the island on Saturday?" Adam asked as they crossed into the dining room. The wonderful smell of a smoked turkey wafted toward them from the adjoining kitchen.

"I believe so," he answered as he moved to assist Joe with the traditional Christmas dinner. Calling out over his shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen, Duncan managed to surprise Methos. "By the way, I left your present on the table. Open it. Let me know what you think."

Looking over the table, he found the long box in the middle of the expanse. Picking it up, it proved to be heavier than it looked. Carefully opening the lid, he found a brass-hilted dirk, sheathed in black leather. Pulling the blade free of the scabbard, he found the steel to be quite strong, but sharp as well. "A dirk? A Scottish dirk?" Smiling, Adam caressed the long knife, testing its sharpness and feeling the balance of the weapon. Glancing up, he saw Duncan and Joe entering the room, arms laden with several dishes. "Thank you, Duncan. It's quite nice." Slipping his hand into his pocket, he pulled forth a small, gilt wrapped gift and handed it to the Highlander. "I already gave Joe his gift, so here's yours."

Warily opening the gift, Duncan found an extremely old Chinese pillow book. "You have a very strange sense of humor, Methos."

Grinning, Adam started to pour the wine he'd brought from his private stash. "Oh, there's more to it than that. Check out the pictures." He chuckled as Duncan and Joe, who was looking over the Scotsman's shoulder, gasped in unison. "Never knew you visited Cathay, Duncan. Let alone inspired some artist to draw you into a pillow book."

Joe Dawson's expression showed his surprise at the images, explicit pictures which clearly showed the face and form of one of his Immortal friends. Stuttering slightly, he asked, "What the heck is a pillow book, Adam?"

"An instructional book for newlyweds." Adam started to chuckle a little more, as the blush that had crept up on Duncan's face deepened to a bright crimson. Yes, Eolia was gone, but life and friendships would continue.

* * *

The tingle that seemed to come from within and without at the same time warned LaFollet there was a fellow Immortal nearby. That's what he had been hoping for. Climbing the last few stairs to the third level of the building, he approached the door to Diandra Pallas' apartment, unsure of the greeting he'd get. He'd already made the one stop he really hadn't wanted to make. The trip to the county morgue to confirm Lee's identity had fairly used up the last of his emotional reserves. He raised his hand to knock, but met no resistance as the door was pulled open, not by Diandra, but by Inspector Connor.

"Where in the hell did you run off to last night?!" 

"Taking care of business, Inspector. Business you might be interested in." Holding up the plastic shopping bag he'd placed the stolen DVD-RAM drive in, he waited for the woman's response.

Megan slowly reached for the bag, then looked inside. "What in the hell?"

"I found that in a hovel of a hotel after I left last night." 

Reaching out, she pulled on his arm and tugged him into the loft. "Damn. Dee! J-M's here."

Jan-Michel allowed the Australian to pull him into the apartment, but stopped a few steps inside the door, not wishing to offend the Immortal who lived there.

"Thanks, seems like we both lost someone we cared about last night." Diandra hung up the phone and turned to face the Immortal Watcher. "Jan. Come on in. I won't bite you."

"Diandra, I'm sorry. I didn't realize what Lee was up to-- " He stopped when the woman held up her hand.

Sighing as she dropped into the chair near the phone, Diandra shook her head. "She'd changed from the woman I once knew. She lied to all of us, just some of us more than others. We believed her lies, and so were unprepared for last night." She waved Jan-Michel over to the couch, then noticed the bag Megan was holding. "What is that?"

"The missing DVD drive."

Diandra turned to face LaFollet. "You found his hiding place?"

"Yes. Living well below what he was accustomed to, I'm sure. The drive was sealed in layers of plastic and hidden in the tank of the room's toilet."

Megan sat on the arm of the chair, close to Dee, and looked at the Watcher. "So Brad was the thief at QuestScape, and he had the drive all along?"

"Yes. Diandra gave me his personal belongings after I met up with her inside the park. A little bit of research and a lot of luck led me first to his car and then to the Ranch-O-Motel where Bradley Ventriss had decided to hole up." Jan shook his head, trying to clear his mind of the image of Lee Eolia, lying on a slab in the county morgue. Feeling two sets of eyes on him, he looked up to see both women watching him, concern coloring their expressions. "Sorry. Had to go confirm Lee's identity before I came over here."

Megan asked, "Did the M.E. tell you anything? If she was dead before, well, you know?" She made a throat cutting motion with her hand. 

"Yeah, he did." 

"She died of the gunshot wound, didn't she?" Jan nodded, confirming Diandra's suspicions. Sighing, she said, "Then she didn't feel anything when that asshole took her head."

"I just wanted to bring that drive to you before I go make arrangements to take Lee home to New York." LaFollet moved to stand up, getting ready to make his escape, but was halted by Diandra's soft voice.

"Would you mind if we honored her here on Saturday? I'd like to give her a proper warrior's ceremony. A funeral pyre and the appropriate prayers for crossing over."

He sank back into the thick cushions, his body suddenly as numb as his mind. "I... I don't know. I think that I should take her home, to her WindHawk family, but at the same time I don't want to face them. I failed to protect her, to keep her alive... "

His face buried in his hands, Jan felt a gentle touch on his shoulder as Dee said, "Jan, even if you had been there when Lee challenged Brad Ventriss, you couldn't have interfered, either as a Watcher or as an Immortal. Once the fight was engaged, it was between the two of them alone." 

"I know, but it doesn't make it any easier. I have to go back to New York, face the members of the WindHawk family and tell them that she's gone, taken from us in the same manner that Azir was." He clasped her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze, then stood up. "I really appreciate your idea for Eolia, and I'll think on it. I have to go back tomorrow and make some sort of arrangement to get Lee out of the morgue." Stepping towards the door, he glanced over at Megan. "Inspector, I don't care what you do with that damn DVD drive, but if you decide to hand it over to the Department of Defense, I have a few contacts who could help." With that, LaFollet let himself out of the apartment.

He had one more stop to make that evening and while he wasn't actually dreading it, he wasn't too sure how Brianna Stertz was going to react either. In the last three months, as a Watcher, he'd done the unthinkable -- lost not one, but both of the Immortals he was assigned to observe. Climbing into the Lexus, Jan-Michel tried to ignore the scent that seemed to permeate the vehicle as he cranked the engine over. No use. Somehow he had the impression that he'd never be able to smell either heather or lavender again without thinking of Lee Eolia.

Turning the car southward, he set his sights for Seattle and his meeting with his Watcher boss, while trying to think of the right way to tell the woman that he was, technically, out of a job, at least until a new Immortal came along who needed to be watched.

* * *

Yawning and stretching, Blair opened his eyes. Watery sunlight filtered through the curtains over his bed. Man, how late was it? Rolling over on the small mattress, he caught a whiff of Dee's unique scent, a mixture of pheromones and the flowering herb bath gel she used. Dee had been here. Memories of the night before trickled back slowly. Oh, god, Lee! And Jim! God only knew how he had taken the news of her death. 

Tossing the blankets back, Blair sat up, then blinked in surprise as he realized his ribs didn't hurt. Dee...a smile crossed his face, then quickly faded. Two people had died last night. He shouldn't be happy. He ran his hands through his tangled mass of hair. But he was happy, god help him, he was. Dee was alive, Jim was alive--wait, no, Jim had been hurt! That's why they'd been at the hospital last night. The Quickening! Jim had touched him during the Quickening! 

A noise from the other room shot Blair to his feet. "Oh, whoa, big mistake. Head rush..." He closed his eyes to stop the room from spinning. Feeling himself sway, he reached out for something to steady him, and felt a hand close around his arm. 

"Take it easy there, Chief. Why don't you sit down for a minute, and then we can try standing again?"

"Okay." Blair promptly sat back down on the futon. The mattress shifted as Jim took a seat next to him. Blair opened his eyes and examined his partner. "You okay? You look like shit."

Jim snorted. "You should see yourself, Darwin. Interesting colors you've got going on there." His finger traced lightly along Blair's jaw as Blair flinched, more in reflex than in actual pain. "How are the ribs?"

Blair felt a smile flirting with his lips again. "Fixed, I think, or those drugs are **really** good." Jim's fingers probed along his side. "Hey, man! That tickles!" he exclaimed, squirming out of the sentinel's reach. "I'm fine. The more important question is: how are you?" 

Jim looked away for a moment, closing his eyes. All Blair could see was the other man's stoic profile, but the fine lines around his eyes and the firm set of his jaw gave away some of what Jim must be feeling. 

"Did Dee tell you about Lee?" Jim's chin lowered fractionally. "I'm so sorry, Jim. I know you thought that maybe she might turn out to be someone special. You want to talk about it?"

Shaking his head, Jim ran a hand over his face and opened his eyes. "Not right now, Sandburg. I've still got a headache, though not nearly as bad as last night. I'm wiped out physically, and emotionally, I'm just numb at the moment. If I feel the need to talk, I know where to find you." He slapped Blair's knee lightly and got to his feet. "I was going to make something to eat, you interested?"

"Yeah, after I take a shower. What time is it anyway?" He extended a hand, and Jim hauled him to his feet.

"About 2:30. I woke up about an hour ago. Dee was across the hall with Megan last time I checked. Want to invite them over to eat?"

Blair shuffled over to his dresser, rooting through the drawers for clean clothes. "I will after I get cleaned up." He pushed the drawer shut and turned to face Jim. "Some sucky holiday this has turned out to be, huh?"

Sighing, Jim replied, "Yeah," before heading for the kitchen. Blair made his way down the hall to the bathroom, trying not to dwell on the events of last night.

Blair finally emerged from the bathroom to find Megan seated at the kitchen table with Jim. Something that looked like a part from a computer was sitting on a stack of papers and folders in the middle of the table. "Hey, what's that?" he asked, vigorously scrubbing at his wet hair with a towel.

Megan looked at him, her gaze running slowly from his head to his toes and back up again. One eyebrow arched and a grin spread across her face. Blair realized he was standing in the hallway in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. "Um, I'll be right back." Darting into his room, he shut the door behind him and quickly dressed. When he returned, Jim and Megan were talking about the Department of Defense.

"I know LaFollet turned it in to me, Jim, but I hate the thought of giving the thing to the PD. It'll only end back up in Ventriss' hands, and he'll be free to destroy it."

Getting a cup of coffee from the kitchen, Blair walked over to the table. "Is that the DVD-RAM that started all this?"

Jim nodded. "I guess Jan-Michel found it last night, at wherever Brad was hiding out. He brought it over and gave it to Connor."

"So, you're trying to decide what to do with it?" At both cops' nods, Blair continued. "Technically, it really doesn't belong to Ventriss, or QuestScape. They were contracted by the DOD to create the program on there. It's actually DOD property. I don't see any reason we can't call them and arrange to give it back. I mean, we would be doing QuestScape a favor, making sure that information gets to its rightful owners." Giving them both a grin, he took a big swallow of coffee.

"Well, when you put it that way...I'll make some phone calls, Chief. I know a couple people who would be very interested in what's on that DVD." Getting up from the table, Jim snagged the portable phone and headed upstairs to where Blair knew he kept his list of phone contacts. 

"Would you like some coffee, Megan?" At her head shake, Blair pulled out a chair and sat down. "You just come over this morning, uh, this afternoon?"

Megan ran a hand underneath her hair and massaged the back of her neck. "No, I actually came by last night about one, found you three all asleep, and crashed across the hall. You doing better?"

Blair set his mug on the table. "Me? Yeah, I'm fine. Well, not fine, fine, but physically, I'll live." He didn't mention he was still feeling stabbing pangs of guilt, despite Diandra's reassurances that Eolia's death wasn't his fault. "How about you? I mean, you were there right? I vaguely remember Jim, or Joel, saying something about you finding us."

"Yeah, I found you. Scared me out of my wits, you did, both of you passed out and unresponsive, and Dee god knows where, doing god knows what. Thank the stars you weren't hurt worse, because I sure in the hell couldn't rouse Jim out of the zone or whatever he slipped into." She ran a hand through her hair. "Can you explain to me what happened? Because Dee is no help whatsoever."

Blair picked up on the pain underlying her words. "Megan, did something happen between you and Dee?"

She blinked rapidly, and Blair could see tears glistening in her eyes. "Yeah, you could say that. Foolish me, I kind of thought this champion/companion thing was all for one and one for all, you know? And she says it is, just not when it involves Immortals." 

Blair rubbed his suddenly sweaty hands on his jeans. Damn it. What in the hell could he say to that? "I'm sure Dee just felt there wasn't any reason to get you involved. I mean, who knew that everything was going to go so bad all at once? Sure, Brad was immortal, but Lee knew that, and she probably thought it was her problem and she could deal with it. She probably never imagined the four of us knew Brad for one thing, or that he would try to involve us, or go after Dee. That's why she went to the park to answer his challenge, because she considered it as being between her and him. Unfortunately, Dee didn't see it quite that way. When she was attacked on Tuesday, it became her problem. And she let you know that. Before then, I don't think she really saw whatever was going on with Lee involving her, or us." He waved his hand to let her know he was including Jim in that statement, as well as the both of them. "So, maybe she was wrong not to tell you she knew Lee, but as far as Dee knew, Lee being immortal had no bearing on your robbery case. And you have to remember, Lee was lying to her, too."

Megan stared at her finger, which was tracing an aimless pattern on the tabletop. "Maybe. Doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. Doesn't mean I can shove what I've learned about Dee back under the bed, along with the rest of the monsters."

Blair felt his heart stop at her words. "Is that what you think of her, that she's some kind of monster? Damn it, Megan, she's been honest with you, about who and what she is, about the Game--"

The companion's head shot up, her flashing eyes boring into Blair's. "But it was a little late then, wasn't it? I was already joined, already committed before I got the 'I can't be killed by ordinary means' lecture. Sure, I suspected something, knew she was able to heal herself, but never in my wildest dreams did I imagine her having to kill others of her kind to survive. I don't know if I can live with that, with knowing she may leave one day and never come back."

Blair looked at the ceiling for a long moment, swallowing past the huge knot in his throat, then he said quietly, "You're not the only one who has to deal with that, Megan. I love her, too, you know." Getting up from his chair, he headed for the door, hearing her call out behind him. 

"Oh, god, Sandy! I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way!" 

He knew she was hurting, but he couldn't deal with it right now; everything was closing in on him. Jim was grieving, Megan was hurt, and his own guilt felt like it was going to choke him. Opening the door, Blair left, heading for the sanctuary he knew lay across the hallway. 

He entered Dee's loft quietly, some internal instinct telling him she needed calm and serenity. He walked through the living area, sparing only a brief glance at the site of last night's battle. It was fresh enough in his memory he didn't need the sight of the missing rug and table to bring it back. 

Blair found Dee in the studio, seated cross-legged on a workout mat, her hands resting on her knees, palms up, her eyes closed, and her breathing deep and even. Blair sat down on the mat across from his lover. He watched her for a few moments, but she didn't acknowledge his presence, and he knew she was deep in a trance. He wondered if she was spirit walking, if she was in the jungle, or the field where he and Megan had found her a month ago, being driven insane by her senses.

He could understand her need to meditate, to escape. He knew she regretted what she'd done, or failed to do, if only for the pain it was causing Megan and Jim. Crossing his legs, Blair closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, trying to let all the stress and guilt go as he exhaled. Consciously he matched the rhythm of his breathing to hers, feeling the loft fade around him, the air becoming hot and humid against his skin.

When he opened his eyes, Blair found himself standing in a jungle glade, the sound of flowing water filling his ears. There was a large pool in the middle of the clearing, a waterfall at one end providing the relaxing sound. He looked around, but saw no signs of anyone else. Blair eyed the water longingly. It was incredibly hot, and the pool looked so cool...and...he glanced down at himself. "I'm already naked..."

Grinning, he waded into the water, feeling the cool liquid flowing like silk over his skin. Oh, this was so good, so peaceful, so relaxing. He swam out to the middle of the pool and floated on his back, gazing up at the lush green canopy overhead. Only one thing would make this more perfect--

"And that would be?"

The soft, warm voice startled him, and Blair splashed for a moment before he saw her. "Dee!"

She was already in the pool, her wet hair slicked back, droplets of water glistening like diamonds on her skin. "I've been waiting for you," she breathed, and somehow he was in her arms, her love for him surrounding Blair. 

They swam together for what felt like hours, floating in comfortable silence, then splashing wildly in a water fight. Finally she exited the pool, flopping down on the soft grass under a tree, and Blair followed her, feeling her snuggle up against him, her arm going around his waist. The heat of the sun and the still, humid air made Blair sleepy, and he closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, he was lying on the mat in Dee's studio with her curled up next to him. Her eyes were open and her gaze met his. He felt his stomach knot and twist; something was troubling her, probably the same thing bothering him. Maybe he could make it go away. Blair kissed her forehead, whispering, "I love you, angel."

Her grip on him tightened, as did the knot inside him. "Why?" Blair stared at her, wondering why she would ask such a thing. "All I seem to do is hurt you, and by extension, Jim, and Megan as well. Lee could have killed you last night; she would have if you hadn't finally stayed down. And I let her into our lives. I helped her, and she nearly killed you. I should have taken her head when we met at the church, when she first dared lay a hand on you. It would have spared all of us a lot of pain and heartache." She sat up, wrapping her arms around her knees, seemingly oblivious to the tears running down her face. "What good have I ever done you? I left you last night when you were injured, twice! How many times have you faced death because of me, because of what I am? Goddess! How selfish can I be? I should have learned my lesson the first time. I should have walked away and kept going."

Blair sat up, wanting to reach out to her, but uncertain how that gesture would be received. "Dee, no, no. You can't mean that. You can't see the future; you don't know what would have happened. If nothing else, Cristo would have killed Megan and me without you. You saved me. God, you saved me in more ways than one. You believed in me when I didn't believe in myself, didn't believe I could be a guide, could help Jim the way he needed to be helped. You love me like no one's ever loved me, completely, totally, without reservation. You never made me feel like I needed to be more than I am, that I needed to change to earn your love. I have so been there, done that, lost myself in someone else's vision of me. With you, I found myself. I love you, Dee." He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a hug. "I know you're hurting, baby. We all are. But please, please, stay with me."

He felt her relax in his arms, leaning her head against his shoulder, crying against his shirt. "I know Eolia was important to you, Dee. Maybe not as who she was now, but for who she was when you first met her. She represented the last bit of your life before you became immortal, but she wasn't that person anymore, angel. Last night, when she attacked you, I knew she was going to take your head."

Dee pulled back to look at him. "What?"

"That's all I could think, all I could see was her killing you, and I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't let her hurt you. God, when I picked up the sword, I wanted to kill her. I can't believe I actually thought about taking another person's life. I knew I should have taken her head; I was scared enough, angry enough, to do it. But when the moment came, I couldn't do it." He hung his head, all kinds of emotions surging through him. "Thank god, it turned out I didn't have to, that she hadn't really meant to take your head, but what if I'm put in that situation again? What if I have to kill someone to save Jim, to save you, and I can't do it? I mean, that's part of my job, isn't it, as a Guide, to protect my Sentinel?"

Blair felt her fingertips underneath his chin, lifting his head, bringing his eyes level with hers. "If Lia had really meant to kill me, Lobo, you would have known. I have no doubt you would have found a way to stop her, even if that meant killing her." Her thumb stroked across his cheek, and he felt her wipe away tears he hadn't realized were falling. "If the moment ever comes, you'll be able to do the same to protect Jim. Being a Guide, being a warrior, is in your blood, in your genes, is who you are. Everything else, even what we have together, is second to that." She leaned forward, her lips meeting his in a tender kiss. 

And with that simple, loving gesture, Blair's world righted itself, and he knew they would get through this the way they'd gotten through everything else, together, Jim and Dee and Megan and himself. Dee had told him once, before Megan had become her Companion, that three was a powerful number. At this moment, Blair knew that four was invincible. Now they only had to convince Jim and Megan.


	11. Chapter 11

Captain Simon Banks did not want to do this, to leave Daryl to celebrate the holiday alone again while he answered the call of The Job. At least there was a chance that the latest Myst game would keep his son from getting into too much trouble. Now, here he was, parking his sedan outside the building one of his detectives lived in and wondering if he should approach the whole incident from the view point of the commanding officer of said detective, or as a friend. 

"Aw, hell. It never is simple when Ellison and Sandburg are involved in anything. Why should it be any better when I have to question another damn Sentinel and **her** guide?" Simon climbed out of the car, shrugging deeper into his overcoat as the wind kicked up again, sending shivers down his spine. Entering the building through the side entrance, he was happy to note that the elevator seemed to be back in working order, and he stepped into the lift.

Knocking on the door to Ellison's place, he thought he detected the sounds of people talking, but that stopped when his knuckles rapped on the wooden portal. The face that greeted him when the door was opened looked completely worn out, even had a few new fine lines around the light blue eyes. 

"Simon." The voice was almost toneless, but the captain heard the listlessness that was barely concealed. 

"Jim. Hate to bug you on your day off-- " He stopped when Ellison waved him into the loft. Crossing the threshold, he wasn't surprised to see Sandburg, Connor and Dr. Pallas already there, seated around the dining table. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything?"

Sandburg shook his head as he stood up from the table. "Nothing much, Simon. Can I get you some coffee? Or, if you prefer, I made some fresh eggnog or wassail." The younger man slipped up behind the captain and relieved him of his overcoat as he made his way into the kitchen.

"Real eggnog, or that unadulterated crap?" Simon liked eggnog, but only if it had the rum in it that it was meant to have. The non-alcoholic stuff was for kids, and he was well past that stage of his life.

Giggles erupted quietly from Megan Connor who rapidly recovered her composure to answer his question. "Oh, it's the real stuff all right. Sandy swears he put the proper amount of alcohol in the mix, but I think the bottle may have slipped a bit more in than he intended." She held up a short tumbler, half full of the pale, creamy mixture, and toasted her boss.

Smiling, Simon quirked his eyebrow at the inspector, wondering just how much eggnog the woman had already had in her system. "Tell you what, Sandburg, if you have a beer in the fridge, I'll take that. Seems to be the safer of the choices you gave me."

"I did offer to make coffee for you, Simon." Blair retorted as he pulled a bottle of beer from the icebox. 

"Lobo, not to hurt your pride or anything, but your coffee is best used as ink, or paint remover," Diandra Pallas quipped from where she sat next to Megan.

"Hey! I'll have you know that my coffee was the most sought after drink on campus, four years running, when finals were on." He handed the cold brew to Simon as he crossed back over to the table.

Accepting the bottle, Simon followed Blair, spotting the files and what appeared to be-- "Is that what I hope it is?" He pointed to the electronic device sitting in the middle of the table.

Jim nodded as he sat back down at the table. "If you're thinking that it's the missing drive from QuestScape, yes. LaFollet recovered it last night and brought it to Connor's attention this afternoon."

"How in the hell did he know where to find it?" He didn't miss the looks that passed between the four people gathered around the room. "Okay, I get the idea that I need to ask this question--do I really want to hear the truth about what happened last night, or do I want to remain in the dark?"

"We could tell you the truth, Simon." Jim looked up at his friend. "But I think you might want to distance yourself from everything that happened."

Sighing, Simon Banks scrubbed his face with his free hand, then nodded. "It's one of those damn sentinel things again, isn't it?"

"You could say that." Blair pulled the yellow armchair closer to the table and plunked down in it, leaving the remaining dining chair free for Simon to use. "Sit down, Simon and we'll try to answer all your questions for you."

Sitting down after taking his first sip of beer, he started the line of questioning with a statement. "Okay, first off, I think you should know that the lab finished their analysis of the ashes that were recovered from the scene of Ms. Eolia's murder and it looks like something animal was burned there. Can any of you tell me anything about that?" He didn't bother looking at the detectives or the consultant but, rather, concentrated his questioning glance on the woman who had been a suspect in a beheading a few months back.

Meeting his stare, Diandra never flinched. "Maybe someone burned their dinner in the fire when everything started to go down, Captain."

Smooth. No hesitation in her voice, galvanic responses well within the normal range. "Maybe. Tell me, Pallas, where were you last night around seven PM?"

"I was in my place, cleaning up the mess that was left behind when Lee decided to attack Blair. And, before you ask -- no. There is no one who can confirm that alibi for me."

"I already figured as much. Joel told me you were home when he brought Sandburg and Ellison back here and that you appeared to have been in the midst of a cleaning spree." Simon turned to Blair. "Speaking of you, Sandburg, I read over Joel's report of your statement at the hospital. You said that Ms. Eolia had been contacted by the thief who had taken QuestScape's property?"

Blair nodded. "That's what she told me. I tried to get her to wait, either for her bodyguard or Jim to show up, but she didn't seem inclined to listen to reason. When I tried to stop her from leaving on her own, she went nuts on me, attacking me and once she was done, she left. I must have lost consciousness, because the next thing I recall is waking up to find Jim standing over me." 

"Okay. Jim, your turn. What happened last night? Why didn't you take Sandburg to the hospital straight away, instead of dragging him all the way across town?" That action alone troubled Simon the most. Usually, Ellison was very concerned about his guide's health, and if he'd been as severely beaten as the bruises on his face seemed to indicate, then the hospital should have been the first place the Sentinel had gone.

Jim tensed his jaw, grinding his teeth, and Simon could see him forcing himself to relax and answer Simon's question. "By the time I found Sandburg, we only had about ten - fifteen minutes to get to where Eolia was supposed to meet the thief that had this." He tapped the DVD-RAM drive with his finger before continuing. "Blair insisted that he was okay, sore but otherwise all right, and I felt it best to try to get to the park before anything happened. We didn't make it in time."

Simon recalled the detective's actions a couple of nights before, when he'd brought Lee Eolia into the station after requesting access to a safe house for her. Ellison had been down right solicitous of the security consultant, and Simon thought he'd seen a glimmer of something sparking between the two of them. "Jim, I'm sorry. I don't know the full story, but even a blind man could've seen that you were attracted to Ms. Eolia."

"I'll be fine, Simon." Jim answered as he leaned back in his chair, his arms crossing over his chest.

The body language was loud and clear to the captain. Jim Ellison wasn't ready to talk about the death of Lee Eolia. "I know you will be, Jim. You always are. Next question. What happened to you and Sandburg last night? Why did Connor find him passed out and you zoned so deep she couldn't pull you out?"

Megan hopped into the conversation at this point. "I don't think we'll ever know that, Captain. I mean, there were signs that there had been some sort of electrical discharge at the scene, and Sandy and I have been puzzling over that most of the day." She looked over towards Blair, her eyes begging him to help her out.

"I think what may have happened, Simon," Blair leapt in with what sounded suspiciously like a planned response, "is that somehow I managed to get caught up in some sort of trap that the man Lee had gone to meet had set up. My nerves still feel a little fried, and if Jim got caught up in the same discharge of energy, it may have caused his zone-out." He shrugged, and then winced as almost an afterthought, like he suddenly remembered he was supposed to be injured. "That's my theory anyway."

"It's the best one that you've come up with today, Chief. Lord knows, my head's still smarting from whatever hit us." To emphasize his point, Jim pinched the bridge of his nose, then got up to retrieve the medication that he'd been prescribed for the headache. 

Simon watched as the detective shook a capsule out of the brown plastic bottle and then swallowed the medicine. Turning back to Megan, he continued his line of questioning. "I stopped by the station on my way here, Connor. There's a report from the M.E. in Seattle waiting for you on your desk, but I took the liberty of looking it over. You may be right on track with the assassin angle that you came up with last night."

Megan didn't bother to hide her surprise. "I am, sir?"

"Yes. It seems that Azir El Sadih, the late husband of Ms. Eolia, was killed in the same manner as she was. The detectives there in Seattle are of the opinion that there is more than one assassin utilizing that particular MO." 

Diandra put her two-cents in. "Really? Isn't that a little odd?"

Simon grinned at the professor. "Yes, it is. But they put together a string of homicides throughout the United States that have the same signature to them and there seems to be a pattern. But the timing is off for it to be only one person behind all of them, so they are working on the theory that there are at least four, maybe five, people loose in the country that are working together."

The anthropologist seemed disturbed by this news, and finally spoke up. "That can't be possible, Simon. I mean, I only took a few classes in abnormal psychology, but the idea that so many people would use the same exact modus operandi, have the same signature to their crimes, is a little far-fetched, don't you think?"

Thinking back to his classes at the FBI's National Academy, taught by members of the old Behavioral Science Unit, Simon had to agree with the anthropology student. "That's my opinion as well, Sandburg. But you have to understand Seattle PD's point of view. They have an unsolved decapitation murder, one that seems to match up with several other open files in other jurisdictions and they're grasping at anything that might lead to the killer, or killers." He finished off his beer, swallowing the last few sips in one gulp, and stood up. "Okay, I think I've heard enough for now. I'll want to see your statements on my desk first thing Monday morning, and your reports as well, Connor." After depositing his bottle in the recycling bin, he grabbed up his coat. "Oh, and Jim? I hate to do this to you, but until the doctor clears you for duty, you're officially on medical leave."

* * *

Blair walked Simon to the door and leaned his back against it after he'd closed it behind the police captain. "That was so much fun--not." He gazed at the three people still seated at the table. "Do you think he believed it?"

Pushing back his chair, Jim got to his feet. "Nope. Not a word of it."

Dee swore softly. "Damn it. Guess I'd better make sure my other identities are up to date." 

Blair felt everything turn upside down again. "That doesn't mean Simon's going to come after you, Dee. He might just want this to quietly fade away, like we do. Arresting you isn't going to do that. Eolia's people aren't going to want this all dragged out in the open, either. I mean, Jan-Michel has as much to hide as you do." He crossed the room to lay a hand on her shoulder. "It'll be okay, I promise." 

Dee reached up and gave his fingers a squeeze. "I'm sure it will be, but it doesn't hurt to be prepared. So, anyone else starving?" 

Megan spoke up. "I'd better eat something, or I'm going to be too wasted to go in to work tomorrow. Got anything in the fridge, Jim?" 

Opening the door of the appliance, Jim took a look inside. "Not much here. A couple frozen pizzas."

"That'll have to do," Dee said. "My refrigerator is full of our uncooked Christmas dinner. Somehow I just couldn't make myself get up at 6 am and start cooking after what we went through last night." She slapped her hand down on the table. "The airline reservations!"

"What?" The word was out of his mouth before Blair realized she was talking about their vacation plans. They were supposed to leave tomorrow. "You'll have to cancel them."

Dee chewed her lip, her brow furrowed in thought. "I hate to do that. Maybe I can just change them to Sunday." Getting up from the table, she headed for the door. "I'll be back in a little while." 

Once she was gone, Blair walked out to the kitchen and turned on the stove, then took one of the pizzas from Jim and began to tear the plastic wrap off. Megan picked up her cup of eggnog and followed him. "Do you really think you should be going away at a time like this?"

Blair glanced up at her, noticing Jim was looking at him, too. "I don't know. I mean, well, Simon didn't say we couldn't go. But I don't want to leave you here by yourself, Jim."

Jim let out an exasperated sigh. "I'm fine, Chief. Go to Hawaii. I know you've been looking forward to it for weeks now, and you deserve it."

"But, Lee--"

"Sandburg, I knew the woman for less than a week." He waved his hand to ward off protests from both Megan and Blair. "Yes, I liked her, yes, we slept together, but one night does not a relationship make. I will be fine. You are going to Hawaii, got it?"

"Got it." Blair stuck the pizzas in the oven. "Now what side dishes go with a Christmas pizza?"

* * *

Sighing, Jim checked the lock on the front door and turned out the lights. Thank god today was over. If he'd had to put up with one more minute of everyone tiptoeing around everyone else's feelings...Sandburg had been right. This Christmas sucked. 

Padding down the hall into the bathroom, Jim washed up and brushed his teeth. Catching a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror, he paused, mid-brush, to examine the face that stared back at him. A furrow seemed permanently engraved on his forehead, and his eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with dark circles. He hadn't bothered to shave and over a day's worth of stubble graced his chin. For once, he actually looked as bad as he felt. He finished with the toothbrush, swallowed a couple of pain pills, and headed up to bed.

Undressing, he crawled beneath the covers, then stared at the ceiling. Normally, on a night like this, when everything had gone wrong with his day, and he was tired and cranky, he would listen to the sound of his guide sleeping peacefully below him, and know all would be right with the world. But Blair was across the hallway, giving comfort to the person who really had a right to grieve over Lee's death.

Jim ran a hand over his face. Two thousand years. Diandra had known Lee, or Eolia as she had been called then, for over two thousand years. And yet, he gathered Dee felt she hadn't known the woman at all. Maybe that had been part of the attraction for him, the fact that Lee was a mystery. Even the things she revealed had hidden more secrets. 

Punching the pillow into a more comfortable shape, Jim rolled onto his side. Still, her loss hurt. Not so much for the little time they'd had together, but for the promise of what could have been. Life with Lee Eolia would never have been boring. But it would have been a different life than he had dreamed of the day before, when he hadn't known she was immortal. She would have remained forever young and beautiful as he grew steadily older. There would have been no chance of a family, something Jim had to admit a part of him longed for. And there would have been the fear, lurking in the shadows, coloring every facet of their lives, that today he would lose her. Lee would walk out the door one morning and never return, and he would only learn of the details much later, in a summary of a Watcher's report he would wheedle out of Blair.

He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. How did Blair stand it? How could he live with that fear, live with the thought that people wanted to kill the woman he loved and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it? He didn't think he could handle it; the constant fear would drive him insane. Jim realized, not for the first time, that Blair was a hell of a lot stronger than he appeared on the surface. 

The pain pills began to take effect, and Jim drifted off to sleep, his mind replaying the happy moments from his far too brief relationship with Lee Eolia.

* * *

Despite the sack of gifts in his hand, Blair held the door to Cascade Police Headquarters open for Diandra and Jan-Michel then followed them inside. 

"You didn't have to come with us, Lobo," Dee said, as she headed down the hallway.

He gave her a grin. "I know, but I had these presents for everyone up in Major Crimes to drop off, and I thought you could use the support."

Leaning toward him, Dee gave Blair a squeeze. "Thanks. I don't think this will take too long. J-M just has to fill out the paperwork, and then it's off to Seacouver." Blair noticed she didn't mention what they would be off to Seacouver with.

"You need me to show you where the morgue is?"

LaFollet shook his head. "No, I was there yesterday. I think I can find the way again."

"Good, because I hate going down there. I'll be upstairs when you're ready to leave, Dee." She gave him a peck on the cheek, then followed the other Immortal toward the stairs.

Blair punched the up button for the elevator, and stepped inside the car as the doors slid open. He glanced down at the gaily-wrapped packages peeking out of his sack. Maybe passing these out would help get back some of his holiday spirit.

* * *

"Sandburg!" Jim's voice boomed through the bullpen.

Blair, perched at the edge of Brown's desk, stopped his conversation with the detective and looked up. "Hey, J--" His greeting faded when he saw the unrestrained rage on the Sentinel's face.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" In three long strides, Jim closed the difference between them, pulling his arm back as he delivered a powerful blow to Blair's jaw.

Blair tumbled off the desk, hitting the floor hard, feeling the air rush from his lungs. His eyes wide, he tried desperately to inhale as Jim leaned over him, his hands tangling in his shirt and yanking the smaller man part way up. "YOU KNEW! You knew all along what she was!" 

"Jim, man, let me explain--" Jim's grip on his shirt tightened, and Blair felt his already meager supply of oxygen being cut off. Spots danced in front of his eyes, and he floated toward darkness.

* * *

Jim had managed to avoid the rest of the group for most of the morning. Jim Ellison, coward? No, not really, he just wasn't ready to face a world that had introduced him to someone he had found totally fascinating, only to violently cut her out of his life. His mind had played tricks on him all night; his sense of smell picking up the faintest trace of lavender and heather and magnifying it, the sensual sliding of silk on his skin reminding him how Lee's hair had felt. Torture, pure and simple torture. 

Having been ordered not to return to work until the doctor gave his okay, Jim was looking forward to just trying to get back into the swing of his old life. Before the break-in at QuestScape, before meeting Lee Eolia, before, before... _Damn, it's no use._ He'd spent the morning doing the fifty-two pick-up routine, straightening up the loft, getting started on the weekly chores, and the entire time his mind kept wandering back to Eolia and what might have been.

Throwing the rag he'd been using for dusting into the trashcan, he realized that staying here in the loft, alone, wasn't a good idea. Spotting the stack of case files on the table, he made his decision. He'd get cleaned up, change clothes and take the records back to the station. Loping up the stairs to his room, he put his plan into motion.

* * *

Jim grumbled as he picked the files up off the floorboard of his truck. He'd laid the files on the bench seat when he'd left, but having to cut the wheel sharply to avoid getting hit by an idiot driver just outside of the station had scattered the files everywhere. Giving up on trying to get the files into any semblance of order in the cold garage, he just scooped them all together with the idea that he'd straighten them out inside the station.

Juggling the slippery files, he made his way towards the Records Department on the second floor. A civilian clerk was just leaving as he approached, and the young man held the door open for him. "Thanks, Todd."

"No problem, Detective. Happy holidays."

 _'Yeah, right. Happy,'_ he thought as he let the files fall onto a desk that wasn't being used. Pulling out a chair and taking a seat, he began to sort through the disordered papers. 

Tucking the last photo of Bradley Ventriss on the autopsy table into its original jacket, Jim noticed a handwritten report peeking out from under the QuestScape file. "What the--?" Pulling it free, recognizing the neat printing as his roommate's, he read the paper.

Disbelief and anger clouded his mind as he realized the report concerned Blair's first meeting with Lee Eolia, last Thursday at Rainier. That was a full day before the QuestScape break-in. What in the hell? He read further, a knot beginning to form in the pit of his stomach. Blair, along with Dee, had a subsequent meeting Friday with Lee, at a church. Lee had come to Cascade with the intent of not leaving the city alive, according to Sandburg's report. She'd even asked Diandra to take her head. That she was, and this was quoted in the report as being direct from Lee's own mouth, "... so tired. I just want it to be over, I don't want to live without him, and it's too painful. He was the only person who ever understood me, who ever loved me for me... " 

The anger at Sandburg started building from a small spark into a raging firestorm. _He **knew**! He fucking knew, last Thursday for God's sake, that Lee Eolia was an Immortal! He **lied** to me! He stood there and boldly lied to me, to Megan!_ Mechanically folding the report, he shoved it into his jacket pocket; it didn't belong in the police files, but in Eolia's chronicle.

Shuffling through the rest of the files, checking to make sure that more Watcher stuff hadn't gotten mixed in with the QuestScape files, he came across printouts of email correspondence between Sandburg and Jack Kelso. They related the career paths of Leandra Evans and an Emil Saunders, including photographs. "Leandra Evans" was Lee Eolia-Sadih. The stuff on Lee's work with the CIA didn't bother him because she herself had told him about that. But the idea that Blair had lied, had covered his tracks and kept what could have been vital information hidden from him and Megan, that enraged Jim. The growl built in his throat as he started tearing through the papers to see what else Blair had held back from him and the investigation. As he found more reports and pulled them from the files, keeping the secrets of Immortals from entering police records, Jim Ellison was actually vibrating with his anger.

"How dare he--!" The Sentinel went on the hunt, intent on tracking down his target.

* * *

"ELLISON! Let go!" Megan's voice cut through the black haze threatening to overcome Blair. For a moment, nothing changed, then Blair felt Jim's grip loosen, and he dropped two feet to the floor. Sucking in a lungful of air, he looked up to see the Aussie with her arm wrapped around Jim's throat in a sleeper hold. Her lips were moving, but he couldn't make out the words, and he realized she was speaking for Sentinel ears only.

Whatever she said must have worked, because the fire faded from Jim's eyes and they became two glittering chips of ice. Megan released her hold on Jim, and he headed for the door to the bullpen. She grabbed his arm. "Uh-uh. Not so fast there, Jimbo. You have a hell of a lot of explaining to do, as well as apologizing." Jim snorted and rolled his eyes, but made no further move to leave. 

Brown reached down and gave Blair a hand up from the floor. "You okay there, Hairboy?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I'm used to getting pounded," he replied, his voice raspy.

"Sandy, I think we'd better do this in private." Megan cocked her head toward one of the interrogation rooms, then started in that direction, tugging Jim with her.

Once inside the room, she whirled on Jim. "What in the hell was that all about? What were you thinking? You'd better thank your lucky stars Dee wasn't here, because I know she sure as hell wouldn't be as gentle as I was! How could you attack Sandy like that?"

Jim was silent, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes fixed on a point over Sandburg's head. After several long moments, he said flatly, "He knew."

Megan let out an exasperated sigh and ran a hand through her hair, pushing the long strands behind her ears. "Knew what?"

Jim yanked some papers from his pocket and slapped them down on the table. Blair recognized them as the info he'd gathered on Eolia. "He knew Lee was immortal. He knew from the very beginning, hell, he knew before we even ran into her Friday night."

The inspector frowned. "What? Sandy, is this true?"

Swallowing hard, Blair nodded. "She approached me last Thursday at Rainier. She was looking for Dee. She wanted Dee to take her head." Megan gasped. Blair ignored her and continued, "Dee talked her out of it, and that was the last we thought we'd see of her. Unfortunately, we were wrong."

Jim's jaw muscles clenched and unclenched, then he finally snarled, "Were you ever going to tell me, tell us, what was going on? Or was it some big Watcher/Immortal secret you couldn't let me in on, even though you knew it would have helped the investigation? Knew that I was getting involved with her?"

Blair threw his hands up in the air and began to pace his side of the room. "I thought you did know, man! I left you the files and a note Tuesday night!"

"What note? I never found any notes!"

"After Dee was attacked! I kept trying to call you, to let you know Lee had lied, that the thief from QuestScape was immortal, was Brad! We were going to Megan's, so I left you a note!"

Jim shook his head. "Damn! I never saw it, never took your veiled hints on the voice mail as a warning. I was too concerned about getting Lee to a safe house and away from the loft."

"God, Jim, I was trying to warn you about her without letting her know." Blair turned toward his friend, his voice pleading.

Jim scrubbed his hand over his face. "Chief, next time -- if there is a next time -- don't play covert ops, okay? Just tell me so I don't have to try to read your mind."

"Hell, Jim, I didn't know what she was going to do. I didn't want her going after you because you knew her secrets. I was trying to protect you."

A snort of amusement escaped the detective. "Blair, I can take care of myself, you know that right? I don't think Lee would've come after me for knowing that she was an Immortal spook any more than I would have gone after her when she figured out part of what I am."

Blair shrugged his shoulders, his eyes on the floor. _Man, she had the wool pulled so far over your eyes..._ "Yeah, whatever."

The sentinel seemed irritated by his lack of response. "Think what you want to think, Chief. Call it gut instincts or playing a hunch, but I really don't think Lee was a threat to me, you or Dee."

 _Oh, yeah, I forgot. She wasn't trying to kill you._ Blair's thoughts were dripping with sarcasm, but he wisely held his tongue.

The three of them stared at each other for nearly a minute, then Jim said, "Are we done here? I'm sorry that I blew up at you like that, but I felt like you had purposely hidden information from me that could've helped crack this case before Lee paid with her life."

Against his better judgment, knowing he was only going to stir things up again, Blair pointed out something Jim seemed to have missed. "Jim, Lee had all that information, which she chose to keep to herself. Dee was nearly killed because she didn't know the person after Lee was immortal."

Jim shook his head. "Maybe she had her reasons to keep silent. If she thought it would go no further than between her and Ventriss, then there was no reason for her to warn Dee or to get us, the police, involved in Immortal affairs."

Blair felt anger bubbling up inside him again. How could Jim defend her and vilify him? "So it's okay for her not to tell, but I have to spill my guts about it? Dee and I didn't say anything about her being immortal because she asked us not to. It was her business. It stopped being her business when people started getting hurt. If she had told the truth about John David's shooter, hell, if she had told the truth about the thief, maybe no one needed to die at all!"

Jim stared at him for several long moments, his jaw muscle twitching, then he spun around and left the room, slamming the door behind him. 

Sighing, Blair said, "Well, I certainly fucked that up."

"Oh, Sandy..." Megan moved to his side, giving the guide a hug.

* * *

Not knowing what else to do, only that if he stayed in the room any longer things would deteriorate further, Jim beat a tactical retreat. How could he have been so blind? Looking back on it now, everything Sandburg had said seemed to have a double meaning. He'd been warning Jim all along, revealing as much as he could without breaking his word to Eolia. And how had she repaid him? By nearly killing Blair and his lover. Jim had failed. Failed to protect the Guide, the Tribe, allowed his thinking to get muddled by a beautiful, red-haired woman who had proven to be the root of all that had gone wrong in the past week or so. 

How in the hell did we get to this point, Chief? Jim thought as he walked down the stairwell to his truck. And worse, how do we fix it?

* * *

Dee glanced over at Blair. He was slumped in the passenger seat of her Wagoneer and had barely said more than a couple sentences since they'd left the police station. If Megan hadn't pulled her aside and told her what had occurred between the guide and sentinel, she'd have been clueless. As it was, she didn't have even the glimmer of an idea as to how to fix the rift she considered her fault. Lia had been her responsibility.

She reached across the bench seat and wrapped her fingers around the hand that rested there. Blair's head lifted slightly and he gazed at her, his eyes dark and troubled. "We will get through this," she reassured him. "The ceremony tomorrow is about honoring Lia, and then letting her go, along with all our grief and anger and fear."

Blair made a strangled noise that Dee realized was his attempt at a laugh. "Jim? Letting go of a grievance? Maybe in your lifetime, Dee, but not in mine. I screwed up. Now I have to pay for it."

Dee ground her teeth in frustration. "You're not the only one who made mistakes, Lobo. I screwed up as well. I never should have gotten you involved. Jim has to bear some of the blame, too. Mistakes and misconceptions abounded on all sides. Lia did a damn good job of bringing out the worst in all of us. But you have to believe we will work through this, and come out stronger in the long run."

With a small sigh, Blair nodded. "I have to, because the alternative is unthinkable."

* * *

Megan shifted her Chevy into park and peered out the window at the deserted beach. She didn't know where else to try. Jim hadn't been at the loft, or the park, or any of his other haunts. Climbing out of the SUV, she shoved her keys in her pocket and started walking. After a couple minutes, she made out the form of a man sitting on the rocks, staring at the ocean. 

"Hey, Jimbo," she called out softly as she approached.

"Connor."

She took a seat on a rock next to him, trying to ignore the cold and damp that immediately began to leech through her coat. "Been looking for you for a while."

Cocking his head toward her, Jim raised an eyebrow. "Really? Why?"

Megan stuffed her hands in her pockets and scrunched deeper into her jacket. "Oh, you know, concern for a friend, that sort of thing."

Jim made a noise that sounded like "harrumph." Then he said, "Sandburg send you?"

She shook her head. "No, I thought this all up on my own." Tearing her eyes from the waves breaking on the jagged stone, she looked at him. His face was blank, his slightly twitching jaw muscle the only hint of emotion. "Jim--"

He turned his face toward her, pinning her with his ice blue gaze. "Look, if you're here to apologize for Sandburg, to somehow explain away what he did, you can just forget it."

Shaking her head, Megan stared back at him. "No, I'm not here for that. I'm just as pissed at Dee as you are at Sandy. I let her know that yesterday. I got it out of my system, and we're moving on, or at least I'd like to think so. But I know we have a long way to go before we're truly partners, before we know each other inside and out. That, I think is going to be an ongoing process, one that'll take years."

Jim sighed. "If you're trying to make a point, Connor, would you please get to it?"

"Is this past week worth throwing away years of friendship?" 

He stared at her again, his expression one of disbelief. "People died, Connor!"

"And Dee and Sandy were responsible for that how? They did the best they could under very bad circumstances. Dee trusted Eolia, and Sandy trusted Dee. I know you want to think the best of Lee, and I know you were starting to care for her. But she put people you love in danger. Do I think she cared for you? From what Dee says, she cared for you a lot. But it didn't change a damn thing she did. She didn't confide in you; she didn't confide in Dee. She prevented Dee from accepting Brad's challenge, nearly killing Blair in the process. Do you think she spared a thought for you then?"

Closing his eyes, Jim ran a hand over his face. "I see your point, but it doesn't mean what Sandburg did wasn't wrong. And it doesn't mean I don't feel pain at losing Lee."

Getting up from her rock, Megan approached Ellison, laying a hand gently on his shoulder. "In a perfect world, Sandy would have known immediately that telling you about Lee and her past was of the utmost importance. But it's not a perfect world, Jim, and none of us knew that a simple break-in would lead to this. It's okay to feel pain; I'd be more worried about you if you told me you felt nothing. I think it's important you go to the ceremony tomorrow."

Jim got slowly to his feet. "I know. I'll be there. I just couldn't face spending the night there on the island, knowing she was..." His voice trailed off.

"Yeah, I know. Kind of creeps me out, too." She let go of his shoulder, and was about to stick her hand back in her pocket when Jim grabbed it, giving it a quick squeeze.

"Thanks for coming after me, Connor. You're a good friend."

Surprised by his unusual openness, she flushed, then said, "Come on, I'll buy you a beer and a steak dinner, then we can drive up to Seacouver in the morning. That sound all right to you?"

Draping an arm over her shoulders, Jim guided her back up the beach. "I think I'd like that."

* * *

Dee watched from her seat on the floor as Blair paced the small living room of MacLeod's cabin. She'd spent most of the day after their arrival at the island preparing Lia's body for the ceremony. She'd bathed her, anointing her with rare oils and perfumes, then wrapped her body in unbleached linen, all the while chanting prayers of passage from this world to the next. She was surprised she still remembered them, as well as the ritual. It had been a very long time since she had last performed the rites.

Given the choice of helping her, or helping Jan-Michel build the funeral pyre, Blair had headed outside with an ax. She hadn't blamed him. Now, though, it was getting late and she wanted to go to bed. LaFollet had volunteered to stay with Lia's body at the pyre, which they had built on a small cliff overlooking the lake, in order to keep scavengers from disturbing it. 

"Lobo, you're making me dizzy. Can you just sit down for a few minutes?"

Running a hand through his hair, Blair crossed the room again. "I should have stayed in Cascade, gone after Jim, tried to work things out."

Resting her elbow on her knee, Dee leaned her chin in her hand. "Were you ready to work things out when we left?"

Pausing in front of the fireplace, Blair moved the logs around with a poker. "No," he replied finally. "No, I wasn't ready then. I was hurt, and I was angry. Jim hit me, for god's sake, even though I deserved it."

Dee exhaled in frustration. "Blair, no one deserves to be hit, especially by a friend. But we are human; we make mistakes. You've already forgiven Jim for striking you, haven't you?"

He kept his back to her as he answered. "Yes."

"Then what makes you think Jim's going to need you to crawl over broken glass before he forgives you? He's your friend, and your partner. He's going to do the same thing you did. Take some time to be alone, to think things through, and then he will forgive you. Everything will be fine tomorrow, you'll see."

Blair crossed the small space between them and sat down on the floor next to her, leaning his back against the couch. "I hope you're right."

"I know I'm right." She patted the rug in front of her. "Now let me work on your shoulders, or you won't be able to move tomorrow."

Blair scooted around in front of Dee, and at her urging removed the three layers of shirts he was wearing. He felt her hands gathering his loose hair, twisting it up and tying it out of the way. Her fingers stroked lightly over his shoulders, getting him used to her touch before she dug in deep, working the knots out of his muscles. It felt good, really good, and Blair almost felt guilty that he was enjoying this, when he imagined Jim was sitting in a dark loft all by himself, grieving over the loss of Eolia. 

Closing his eyes, he played the week back over in his mind. He wondered if he'd done things differently, if he'd told Jim Lee was immortal, that she was CIA, that she'd worked with Brackett, would things would have worked out better? He couldn't see how they would have. If he'd told Jim what he had learned earlier in the week, before anything had gone wrong, Jim would have accused him of checking up on him, of not trusting his judgment. Blair snorted softly. It wasn't like Jim hadn't done the same thing with his girlfriends on more than one occasion, Dee included. Any way he looked at it, Jim was going to be mad at him, to one degree or another. The only way things might have been different was if Lee had told him the truth from the beginning. Jim would have listened to her. 

A long sigh escaped him. Her massage finished, he felt Dee's hands drop from his shoulders to wrap around his waist, gently pulling him back to lean against her chest. For a brief moment, he thought of resisting, of getting up and pacing again, but the need to be close to her outweighed his need to fret. He relaxed against her, feeling her drape the blanket she'd pulled off the sofa around both of them. 

Her cheek pressed against his hair, and Blair stared into the fire, beginning to feel drowsy, as well as warm, and safe, and loved. That thought sent a stab of pain through his heart. Here he was, being held, being loved by a wonderful woman, and because of him, Jim had lost that chance at happiness. Turning his head, Blair pressed his face against Dee's neck, his breathing ragged as he fought the urge to cry. Dee's hold on him tightened, and he felt her fingers stroking his hair, as she whispered, "Shh, shh, it'll be all right, Lobo. You have to believe that..."

Closing his eyes, Blair let himself drift, believing she believed it, and hoping that would be enough.

* * *

The alarm clock bit the dust that morning as Jim started his day by slamming his fist into it. He'd taken Megan up on her offer last night, dinner and drinks, and she'd wisely limited his intake of beer to three, but that didn't save him from the return of the headache he'd been fighting ever since getting caught in the Quickening storm. 

He knew what his problem was. The loft was too quiet; Blair had gone ahead to Seacouver with Dee and LaFollet leaving Jim alone. Without consciously thinking about it, he stretched out his hearing and located the gentle thumping of another heartbeat, one that was becoming as familiar to the Sentinel as his own Guide's was. Megan Connor was across the hall, sleeping in Diandra's place, having brought him home sometime after midnight.

Going through his morning routine after sweeping up the remains of his clock, he allowed himself to think about what he was going to be doing later that day, attending the funeral of Lee Eolia. The woman had blown into his life with all the subtlety of a typhoon only to leave just as abruptly. Thoughts of her, of what she had been, and what could have been if she'd survived her confrontation with Brad Ventriss, plagued him as he set about getting something to eat. 

'It's no use.' His stomach was still unsettled by the pain in his head and his heart. He ended up tossing the two eggs he'd started to cook into the trash. Grabbing his lukewarm mug of coffee, he headed up the stairs to change out of his bathrobe into something more suitable for an outdoor funeral.

* * *

Megan Connor let out a small groan as she reached over and smacked the radio/clock alarm off. "It's too early for this shit." Rolling out of Diandra's bed, the Companion stretched and grabbed up the robe she'd laid across the foot of the bed last night. Walking down the stairs towards the kitchen, she raked her fingers through her hair, giving herself a good scalp message at the same time, and flipped on the coffee maker as she made her way to the bathroom.

A few minutes later, showered, dressed in black jeans and a black cable knit sweater, she sat down in the living room sipping her first cup of coffee. _Sandy and Jim have got to work this whole mess out between them; they have to._ But how that was going to happen was beyond her ability to predict. Both men were stubborn, Jim more so than Blair, but if they held on to the hurts they'd dealt each other, the rift between them would only grow wider and deeper, until there was no chance of reconciliation. 

She'd been surprised when Jim had accepted her offer of dinner the night before. The combination of the meds he was on and the beer had loosened him up enough to actually talk to her.

That was how she'd learned he had been seriously enough attracted to Lee Eolia that he'd asked her if she would consider relocating to Cascade. The woman had actually accepted the idea. Megan's heart tightened as she realized that once again Jim had managed to miss a chance at love. But it wasn't his fault. She'd hoped she'd gotten him to realize that last night. Eolia had held all the cards, lied to all of them, for whatever reasons she had. Draining the last of her coffee, Megan chided herself, _Megs, you have no idea if Lee had been lying to Jimbo, maybe she had cared for him. She just didn't know that everything had gotten so tangled._

Glancing at the clock on the microwave, Megan realized that if she and Jim were to make it to Seacouver in time for Lee's funeral, they had to leave soon. Shutting off the coffeepot and rinsing her cup out, the inspector grabbed up her keys, pocketbook, and coat and headed over to Ellison's apartment.

* * *

Brown corduroys, black turtleneck and his black, Army issued, all-weather coat would have to do for funeral attire, Jim decided. Besides, the somber colors matched his mood this morning. He had just finished lacing up his hiking boots when the knock on the loft's door startled him out of his thoughts. "Come in, Connor. It's open!" he called out. 

"Ready to go, Jim?" He noticed Megan had dressed in dark colors as well, leaving behind her pink dingo coat in exchange for one that was less offensive to the eyes.

"Yeah, I guess." Getting up from the couch, he crossed over to where he had laid out his wallet, badge and sidearm, and the bottle of painkillers the doctor had prescribed for him. With the half pot of coffee he'd drank, the headache that had greeted him earlier had lessened and he didn't think he'd need the potent medication. _But better safe than sorry._

After putting everything in its place and grabbing the keys to his truck, he looked up to see Connor watching him. "What?"

"Uh, Jim, maybe I should drive this morning?"

With a tight nod of his head, he placed the keys back in the basket. "Fine. Let me see your set for a second." He escorted her out the door then, taking her copy of the key he'd given her to his place, locked up the loft. "Let's go."

* * *

"Joe," Adam Pierson greeted the man standing at the entrance of his place.

"Adam, you sure you want to do this?" Dawson asked as he stepped into the small apartment at the back of the bookshop the other man owned.

Sighing, Adam nodded as he slipped into his overcoat. "I have to. She was my student, my wife. I owe her this last tribute."

Joe didn't say anything else, just waited as the oldest of the Immortals finished gathering up a few things around the place. Adam walked over to a bookshelf and pulled down a fragile looking scroll, placed it in a mailing tube, then shoved it into his coat pocket. The last thing he grabbed as he walked out with Joe was his sword. He knew he wouldn't need it on the island. It was holy ground and the only people who would be there would be friends of his departed student, but if there was anyone watching, there was always the chance that someone would take the opportunity to come after him or one of the Immortals gathered there.

* * *

Jan-Michel LaFollet had spent the night standing guard one last time over Lee Eolia's body. Now, as the sun rose above the horizon, he felt the pain of losing her stab him through the heart. Approaching the pyre and the linen covered body lying on top of the carefully stacked wood, he allowed the tears to flow for the first time since she'd died. 

_Lee, I should've told you sooner how I felt about you. I'm sorry that I didn't. I don't suppose I'll ever know why you did what you did, why you hurt Pallas, Sandburg and myself, only to go and challenge Ventriss yourself._ The tears streamed freely down his face as he continued his silent conversation with the departed Immortal. _I just hope that you're happy, that you've been reunited with Azir, and that you find the peace that eluded you since his death._

Feeling the warning buzz of an approaching Immortal, he wiped the tears from his face before turning to face the visitor. "Morning, Pallas."

Diandra nodded, and he knew she was pretending not to notice the tear tracks on his face as she walked over to him. "Morning, LaFollet. Everything okay here?"

"Yeah." He took in her pale complexion in the bright morning sunlight. "You didn't sleep very well, did you?"

"No. Neither did you." She walked around the pyre, inspecting the linen wrap one last time. "She'll be safe for a little while. Why don't you come up to the cabin for something to eat?"

The mere thought of food made his stomach roll. He'd not eaten in a while, and he decided the last thing he needed to do at Lee's funeral was to pass out because he'd not eaten. "If you think she'll be okay." He allowed the woman to grasp his arm and lead him away from the site.

* * *

Driving up to Seacouver was usually a pleasant event. Today, however, it was just too damn quiet. Out of respect for Jim, who hadn't complained about his headache but showed all the signs of having one hell of a doozy, Megan hadn't turned on the radio. The only sounds in the cab of her Chevy Tahoe were the ones of wheels turning over pavement and the whir of the ventilation system. 

Fifteen minutes ago, she'd managed to find the turn off which would lead to the private dock she was looking for. Now, she was just watching for the smaller road that would actually take her and her passenger right up to the lake's edge. 

"Connor, should we be expecting someone?"

The first words muttered by Ellison in the past hour or so startled her. "Not that I'm aware of, why?"

"Company ahead."

'How in the... ' Sighing, Megan banished the question from her thoughts as she realized how Jim Ellison knew what he did. His senses, probably his sight, had clued him into the presence of the other vehicle parked near the dock long before her own eyes spotted the sedan. With the clouds covering the sun in a gray veil, it was hard for her to see who might be waiting for them. "Can you tell who they are?"

"Two men. Oh, I guess that makes sense."

"Who?"

"Pierson and Dawson." 

"Former teacher and a Watcher. Yeah, I guess it does make sense. Eolia surely didn't have any real family in the area."

Nodding his agreement, he waited until Connor had stopped her Chevy, parking it behind the sedan. He stepped out of the warm cab just as Adam Pierson emerged from the driver's side of the other car. A few seconds later, Joe Dawson pulled himself out of the car on the opposite side. "Gentlemen," Jim greeted them.

* * *

Methos tried to gather his thoughts, wondering why he had felt compelled to come to this event Diandra Pallas had dreamed up, a funeral for an Immortal. There were damn few of those recorded in the Watcher's database, and even fewer in his long memory, but this would be one of the first ones that would involve one of his students. He was pulled from his mental ruminations by a quietly voiced question.

"Did Dee say who all was going to be here for this?"

Joe Dawson didn't have to say just what 'this' was. Methos understood. "Just a few friends of hers and Eolia's. Why?" He glanced at the older mortal to see that he was looking out the back window.

"We've got company."

Instead of turning in his seat to see what the man was talking about, Methos looked up at his rearview mirror and spotted the dark green Chevy, watching as it pulled in behind his car. "The Cascade contingent." Opening his door, letting a blast of chilled wind inside, the Immortal stepped out to greet the new arrivals.

* * *

Megan watched Jim greet Dawson and Adam Pierson succinctly, then added her own welcome to the Sentinel's. "Mr. Dawson, Mr. Pierson... Sad day, isn't it?"

"Indeed. One should never outlive one's students." She heard the grief in Pierson's voice, a grief not unlike what she had heard in Jim's voice last night. Odd, that a teacher would have cared for a student like that. 

Shrugging off her thoughts, she turned to shake hands with Joe Dawson. "Joe, I didn't realize you knew Lee Eolia."

The other two men, Ellison and Pierson, had already started down the last remaining bit of road towards the dock, leaving Megan and Joe to catch up to them. She held out a steadying arm of assistance for the older man as he gave his answer. "Not as well as Adam did, but I feel like I've known her for a long time through the stories he told me about her." His hand gently squeezed her arm, grabbing her attention. "He's taking this hard, Adam is. How's Ellison doing?"

Megan sadly shook her head. "I'm not sure. Jim's not one to talk about his emotions, but I have the feeling that he's in the same position as Mr. Pierson." Damn, it was hard. She wanted to speak freely, but she didn't know how much Joe knew about Eolia, or Ellison's relationship with her. Let alone if he knew about the Sentinel business. She knew Dee confided in him, but the Immortal still had her secrets, as Megan had painfully found out.

Joe, sensing Connor's reluctance to really talk about Eolia, stopped her on the short dock and turned to face her. "Connor, Adam knows. So do I." To demonstrate his answer, he pushed back the cuff of his coat, exposing the blue tattoo on his wrist. "He's a Watcher, like me, like Sandburg."

Her face lost a little bit of its high coloring, but he noticed that she seemed to take the information in stride. "Watchers, Immortals and mortals. It seems that all of us touch each other, sometimes without knowing, like a massive jigsaw puzzle." 

"It can get a bit confusing." He started walking towards the boat tied up along side the wooden dock. "But you're right, we all touch each other in ways that most people never know." With the aid of Ellison, who had apparently had decided to man the moorings, Joe climbed onto the boat.

It was one of the few motorized boats allowed on this lake, which was situated on the local Indian Reservation, and it belonged to Duncan McLeod. For this occasion, the Council of Elders had graciously decided to allow the mourning party to travel from the mainland to their sacred island without having to resort to the canoes that were all that were normally allowed to ply the surface of the lake. For that, Joe was thankful, as the idea of having to paddle a canoe across five miles of waterway had almost, but not quite, deterred him from accepting Methos' offer to accompany him.

* * *

Methos wasn't all that surprised when Ellison had offered to man the lines while he checked the controls and fuel tanks on the 1950's, open deck style inboard motorboat. Once all the members of the small group were seated, and after Ellison had managed to find a heavy lap blanket for Joe and Megan Connor to share, he started the engine and slowly pulled away from the dock.

Duncan's boat was in excellent condition, not that he was surprised about that. The Scotsman had a passion for restoring ancient machines and took great pride in his work. The engine was relatively quiet, the wheel responded to the lightest of touches, and the bow sliced through the still waters of the lake's surface like a graceful swan. 

Swinging around the island, he located the jetty that was situated under the cliffs on the west side, and, after killing the speed of the boat, Methos brought the craft alongside the stone and mortar edifice simply by gliding. He watched as Ellison hopped out of the watercraft to the new dock and made the lines fast, only to sharply glance in towards the shore. 

Following the detective's line of sight, Methos was surprised to see Blair Sandburg step out of the tree line and walk down to the shore and the jetty. _Strange, it's almost as if Ellison heard him coming._ With Megan's assistance, he managed to get Joe Dawson safely to shore. Then the three of them walked over to where Ellison was softly talking to his friend.

* * *

The trip from the mainland to the island was quiet, just the way Jim hoped it would be as he was still in no real mood to talk to anyone. He knew he'd screwed up, possibly wrecking the relationship that he had with Sandburg, but sometimes the kid made him so mad. Hadn't Blair learned anything in the three plus years that he'd been hanging around the station? You do not hold back any information that may, or may not, prove vital to a case. As Adam Pierson swung the boat around the island Jim glanced up towards the top of the cliffs.

There, on the edge, he could barely make out what appeared to be a large bonfire structure, only there was something odd about it. Sharpening his line of sight, pupils reacting to his mental command, Jim Ellison took a closer look. He slammed his eyes shut as he realized what he saw. Lee Eolia's body was lying on top of the pyre, wrapped in cloth, ready for her final journey. 

Engine noise faded, and Jim felt the powerful boat ease up towards the shoreline as he opened his eyes and once again took action by manning the lines. Pierson did a fine job of bringing the watercraft alongside the stone, man-made, dock, and the detective grabbed up the ropes, jumped to the dock and made the boat fast against the jetty. Silently thanking his cousin Rucker for the summers he'd spent beating the knowledge of marine knots into a very stubborn head, Jim finished tying off the last line just as something made him look inward towards the island's center.

 _Blair._ His mind identified the source of his unease before the young man stepped out of the tree line and started walking down the path towards him. Concern for his friend, and the impulse to move toward the Guide, pulled the Sentinel away from the dock, leaving Connor and Pierson to assist Dawson getting ashore.

 _'Doesn't look like he slept very well, if at all,'_ Jim noted mentally as he catalogued the essence of Blair Sandburg. The tired look in the normally bright blue eyes, the set of the shoulders denoting either extreme weariness or tightness, the bruising on the face... Bruising that was there because of him, the man that Blair had jokingly referred to as his 'Blessed Protector.' Stepping up the path to greet his friend, Jim never noticed that his voice nearly cracked as he spoke but one word, "Sandburg."

* * *

The path from the cabin to the dock was fairly clear, but Blair wasn't watching where he was going. He was thinking about the upcoming event and his role in the ceremony when he stumbled over an exposed tree root. Catching himself before he fell flat on his face made him fully aware of just how sore he was and how little sleep he'd gotten. 

He'd awakened earlier to find that Dee had gotten up before him and had left the small cabin. Finding a note on her pillow, he knew that she'd gone off to collect LaFollet from his night's vigil at Eolia's side. Making himself useful, Blair had prepared a fairly substantial breakfast for the three of them. After they had eaten, and J-M had gone back to his self-imposed watch, Diandra had briefed him on his upcoming duties. An hour later she'd sent him to go collect the rest of the mourning party when she'd heard the approaching boat.

Clearing the tree line above the shore, he slowly walked toward the dock. Seeing that Jim had decided to come to Eolia's funeral gave him hope that his friend was trying to put the events of the last week behind him. 

"Sandburg." The voice was rough, as if holding back emotions that threatened to break loose, but it was Jim's voice all the same. Glancing up from the pathway, Blair found himself looking into blue eyes he knew were automatically cataloguing every inch of him, imprinting his very essence. 

"Jim." One simple word, the name of a friend, and both men found themselves embracing each other in mutual grief. It was Ellison who broke off the hug first, only to hold Blair at arm's length while one hand clasped a shoulder and the other softly touched the bruise on his jaw.

"I never should've hit you, Chief."

Blair allowed himself to tentatively smile, since the bruising was rather deep and hurt like hell. "Jim, I'm okay. Maybe I needed you to knock some sense into me."

"Never." The touch on his face pulled his eyes upward, forcing him to look at the Sentinel. "If any of us needed some sense knocked into him, it was me, not you."

Closing his eyes, Blair nodded. It wasn't much, but with Ellison, that was probably as close to a full out apology as he was going to get, for now at least. Opening his eyes again, he noticed that they had been joined by the others and stepped away from Jim to greet them.

* * *

Megan walked alongside of Joe Dawson, with Adam Pierson on the other side of his fellow Watcher, assisting him up the pathway. Jim and Blair walked behind them, talking quietly. She held to the hope that maybe the two men were trying to patch things up between them on their own. 

"Those two are close, aren't they, Megan?" Adam's voice cut through her thoughts as she helped Joe carefully navigate another exposed root.

"Yeah, they're close. I just hope they can weather this latest storm without killing each other." 

Joe let out a soft chuckle. "Adam, sounds like those two could rival you and Duncan in the 'we're friends, but have our share of problems' category."

"Probably more so, Joe," Pierson answered.

That effectively ended the conversation between the three of them as they covered the last twenty yards to the clearing where the cabin sat. Megan pondered Pierson's words, trying to figure out what the man had hinted at, only to have her mind go completely blank at the sight of her Champion.

Blair had told the four of them that they needed to clear their minds of any negative thoughts about Lee Eolia before venturing towards the funeral pyre. Diandra had requested this of them, and of LaFollet and Sandy himself the night before. He warned there were likely to be things they would see that would confuse them. Diandra would be conducting the ceremony in the 'old style' and all those who gathered to say good-bye to the Immortal Celtoi woman would be asked to say a few words before the pyre was lit. But this, this was almost like stepping back in time to observe a part of the Amazon which hadn't seen the light of day in a long, long time.

* * *

Methos stepped into the clearing around Duncan's cabin, his senses tingling in warning that there were other Immortals in the area. But that was as it should be, what with Diandra and LaFollet nearby. He thought he had mentally prepared himself to see the Amazon in ceremonial garb, but his jaw dropped open in shock anyway.

The outfit was very similar to the one he'd seen her wearing the day that he caused her first death and, ultimately, the fall of Delphi. Her body was covered in the long, flowing white tunic of a priestess of Apollo, with a decorative metal breastplate and a short sword that was more symbolic than useful belted at her waist. But it was her hair that nearly sent him into a flashback to Delphi, for it was piled atop her head, twisted into the elaborate style that he'd last seen on her that fateful day that had brought Eolia of the Celtoi back into his life.

Looking at his companions, Methos noted that even Sandburg seemed a bit shocked at the change of appearance in Diandra. She must not have told him what she had planned, or at least, not all of it. The only one who seemed to be taking the change in Diandra in stride was Ellison, which made him wonder if the man had indeed seen the woman before they had arrived in the clearing. 

Putting away his line of thought, and slipping back into his mortal persona, Adam finally let loose his tongue. "Well, that's certainly a new look for you, Pallas."

* * *

Dee paused in front of the mirror again, her fingers tucking a stray curl back in place. She studied her reflection seriously for a moment. Perhaps this was going a little overboard. She'd had to dig deep the other day to find the outfit; the half-armor had been buried in the bottom of a trunk she hadn't opened in years. And really, did it matter what she looked like? Certainly not to Lia, and she could perform the ceremony just as easily in jeans and a sweatshirt. But she wouldn't have **felt** like a priestess in jeans, and that was the whole point. Any prop that would get her into the correct mindset was welcome. 

Sighing, she shook herself, settling the armor. Her physique had changed since she'd last worn it, and it was now a bit snugger. The Oracle hadn't been into weightlifting then. The sound of voices reached her through the open door of the cabin, and Dee headed outside to greet the mourners.

A smile crossed her face at the amazed looks. Blair's mouth dropped open, and Megan's eyebrows crawled up into her hair, but Methos was the only one with a comment. 

"A very old look, Adam," she responded, "as you well know." She ran her gaze over them, noting both Joe and Ellison seemed uncomfortable with the whole thing, but probably for different reasons. Touching Jim's shoulder lightly, she said, "I appreciate your being here. I know how hard this must be for you." 

Jim's reply was a slight nod. Dee turned back to the others. "Follow me." She led the way up the trail to the cliff, and gave Jan-Michel a hug once they arrived at the pyre. "You holding up okay, J-M?" 

At his nod, Diandra moved to stand at the head of the pyre, her back to the lake, while the others spread out around the pyre in a semi-circle. LaFollet handed out small torches to everyone as Diandra explained. "Once I've said the prayer, I will light my torch, and in turn light yours. Then it is traditional for each of us to toss our torch on the fire, one at a time, either saying a few words about Eolia, or simply holding her in our thoughts as we do so." 

Closing her eyes, Diandra centered herself, running the prayer over in her mind, making minute changes to fit Eolia's life. Once she was certain she had it, Dee raised her arms in supplication to the Gods, and began to chant.

"Apollo, hear my prayers. I was once your chosen one, and once again I stand on Holy Ground beseeching you to have your brother hear my voice." Diandra paused, waiting to feel the connection that she once felt so strongly when praying to the gods. Feeling the old, yet familiar, sensation settling into her heart, she continued.

"Hades, god of the Underworld, I am here to petition you to smooth the path for my departed sister. She comes to you a warrior true, wounded by lost love and seeking peace within your hallowed Elysian Fields. Eolia was, like me, an Amazon, never taken in by one of the seven tribes, but all the same, she was one of Artemis' Daughters. As the Lord and Master of the House of Ais, it is within your power to control Cerebus, to hold him back from harming Lia as she passes through your realm after crossing the river Styx. Her journey to you has already been a hard one. Make it not more difficult, but ease her way to your Fields." 

Once again, Diandra stopped, shifting her attention now to the one god she had heard Eolia pray to, rarely but passionately. "Othin! Hear me! I send to you a daughter of the Celtoi, a woman well suited to wear the armor of your Choosers of the Slain, a true Valkyrie of heart and soul and a child of Janus, able to hide her true self from others as well as herself. She will serve you well if you take her under your wing." Now to finish this, "Apollo, Hades, and Othin. Soon I, and the friends of Eolia gathered here today, will light the pyre to guide her journey into the underworld. I beg of you kindness, compassion and understanding for the woman who I once called my sister. This I ask of all of you, the Gods that would welcome her, in the name of the Great One whose name can never be known."

* * *

As Diandra's rich alto filled the air with ancient Greek, Blair began to translate, unconsciously falling into the chant rhythm, but one line behind Dee. He stood to her right in the circle, Jim beside him, and LaFollet to Ellison's right. Megan was to Dee's left, Joe next to her, and Adam stood opposite the priestess, at Eolia's feet.

The prayer continued for several minutes, then came to an end as Diandra lowered her arms and picked up her torch. She passed her hand over the top of it, and it burst into flame. Silently the rest of them accepted a light from her, then she began to speak, this time in English. "Hades speed you on your way, my daughter, my sister. May you find what you were searching for amid the Elysian Fields."

She touched the fire she held to the pyre, and the treated wood began to burn. Dropping the torch into the flames, she reached into a pouch she wore at her waist, then scattered what looked like dust, but what were really mildly hallucinogenic herbs, onto the fire. Colored smoke began to rise, and the air was filled with a musky, earthy scent, masking the smell of burning flesh.

Diandra closed her eyes and began to sing. This time Blair couldn't translate for the others, as the language was far older than Greek, one that perhaps only she and Methos still understood. But it didn't matter. The minor key and the keening vibrato in her voice made the message clear. This was a song of mourning.

Inhaling deeply of the potent amber and magenta smoke, Diandra found herself transported to the temple at Delphi. It rose above her in all its marble majesty, as if it had never fallen. She was kneeling on the steps just below the fissure from which the holy mists rose. 

"Lady Dorian." The honorific was spoken softly. 

Rising, Diandra turned around to see Eolia, dressed in the simple brown robes of a servant girl, her hands clasped in front of her, her head bowed to accept her reprimand. "Lia--" 

The woman threw herself on the ground at the Oracle's feet. "Forgive me, Dorian. I failed to grasp the most basic lesson you taught me. The truth is sacred, and no matter how hard I try to hide from it, the more I twist it to my bidding, the more it becomes my undoing. My lies nearly killed you, as I nearly killed the one you love."

Diandra bent to lay a gentle hand on the Celtoi's pinned up braids. "Lia, it's forgotten. You are forgiven. Go on to your new life, your transgressions washed away." 

The other Immortal gazed up at Diandra, her brown eyes wet with tears. Grasping Eolia's hand, Diandra pulled her to her feet and into a hug. When she finally let go of the smaller woman, Dee stepped back, wiping the tears from Lia's face, and kissing her forehead. "Go in peace, Lia. Charon awaits." 

Eolia let go of her hands, shimmered, and disappeared.

Diandra came back to the cliff and the ceremony. She turned to Megan, gesturing for her to go next. The Australian shrugged and cleared her throat. "I didn't know you well at all, Lee, but you were important to people I care about. For their sakes and yours, I hope you are in a better place." She tossed her burning stick onto the fire. 

Joe was next. He simply said, "I wish I could have gotten to know you better. What stories you could have told. God be with you." His torch joined the other two.

Diandra's gaze fell on Blair, and he knew it was his turn. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, inhaling the pale jade smoke. When he opened his eyes, he was no longer on the island but standing inside a darkened building. Light glowed from candles set on various tables around the huge room, casting long shadows on the stone walls and vaulted ceilings. Blair realized he was in Our Lady of Perpetual Help church. Holy ground. Oh, great! This was not the time for this! 

"Companion." The voice was familiar and unexpected. Turning around, Blair found himself face to face with Lee Eolia. She was dressed all in black, her auburn hair hanging loose down her back, her sheathed sword cane in hand. 

For a moment Blair was speechless, then he managed to stutter, "What am I doing here? What are you doing here?"

A rueful smile crossed her lips. "I have unfinished business. I owe you an apology, young one. You knew the truth of me from the moment we met, and I appealed to you to keep what you knew to yourself. My request only harmed you, and the people you love. You are justified in your hatred of me, and I have no right to ask your forgiveness. I am truly sorry for the pain I have caused you, and Diandra, and Jim."

Blair was silent for a moment, wondering what she wanted from him, then he knew. "I accept your apology." As soon as the words left his spirit world lips, he found himself back at the funeral.

"I forgive you, Eolia." He lofted his torch toward the leaping flames, feeling a weight leave his soul.

Taking a step towards the pyre, just as Sandburg moved back, Adam Pierson drew the encased scroll out of his pocket. Holding it close to his chest, burning torch off to his side, Methos began to softly speak. "Eolia... Lia, you were one of my finest Students, even if I had to almost beat some of your lessons into that hard head of yours. Your time on this world was cut far too short." The wind changed directions, gently blowing the herb laced umber smoke into his face and he inhaled the fragrance with his eyes closed.

Opening his eyes, he tossed the scroll onto the pyre and then Methos had to take a step backwards from the vision before him. Eolia was standing there, her back to the pyre, dressed in the ornate silver armor she had worn their year in the Coliseum together. "Eolia?"

Even as he spoke her name, the air and ambiance of the Coliseum surrounded him, taking him back to the last day they had fought together. The massive pyre burned brightly in the center of the grounds to light the spectacle for all in the stands to see. As Champions of the Gladiatorial events, Eolia and Methos were scheduled to fight a small cohort of Germani warriors. Once again, they had proven themselves worthy of the Caesar's admiration, and stood, victorious, on the bloody sands. 

The red-haired, gilded apparition smiled, saluting him with the short blade in her hand. "Greetings, Teacher. Brhati heard my wishes and I've been allowed to appear before you one last time."

"Why?" He was stunned. Brhati was one of the older gods, one lost to antiquity, but also one of the few that could have granted this request.

"Because, Methos, I need to apologize to you. I came to you, asking what no student should ever ask of her teacher, and then had the audacity to get angry at you for refusing me." Tears slowly started to fall down the cream-colored cheeks. "And I wanted to say good-bye to one of my husbands who managed to outlive me."

"Lia," Methos stepped towards the form of his wife of so long ago. Without thinking he reached up to brush away her tears, feeling the soft texture of her skin beneath his fingers. "Oh, Lia. You needn't apologize. I should have realized how deep your pain was and talked to you. Instead, I sent you away, and ultimately, to your death."

The form before him shook her head, her thickly braided hair bouncing over her armored shoulders. "No, that was my fault. I wanted to teach him a lesson when I should've just killed him and been done with it." She paused to look at something off to her right, then her tear-filled brown eyes returned to him. "I haven't much time left. Methos, know this one thing -- I did and always will love you. Take care of Jan-Michel, will you?" 

"I will." The vision faded and he was left slightly disoriented as he realized he was still holding his torch and that the fingertips of his left hand were damp. Tossing the brand onto the burning wood, Methos sent up his own prayer. "May Ares guard your path, Little One." The tightness in his chest, which he hadn't been aware of until then, snapped, and he was able to finally and fully grieve for his lost Student/Wife, unabashedly refusing to hide his tears and pain from the others gathered at the pyre site.

Jan-Michel LaFollet watched as Adam Pierson turned away from the fire, his eyes pouring tears he made no attempt to hide. Taking a deep breath, Jan-Michel started to step forward, only to halt as Diandra moved toward the fire and threw more powder from her pouch onto the flames. The bright grayish blue smoke curling up into the air seemed to move as if alive, twisting in the slight breeze and turning to engulf him in its fragrant grasp.

Closing his eyes against the irritant, Jan-Michel felt himself transported to another place and time, vertigo unsettling his nerves and turning his world upside down. 

"Please, Jan, open your eyes. "

The ghostly voice set his world aright again and he followed the gentle command. There, standing in the foyer of the mansion known as Hawk's Wind, stood Eolia. She was dressed in her finest gown, a creation of pure ivory silk that flowed over her body like water. "Lee? Where am I? What's going on?"

The mahogany-haired woman, whose long tresses were tightly coiled against her head in her famous French twist, smiled and floated toward him over the wooden parquet floor. "I had to see you one last time before I crossed over, Jan. To let you know I knew of your love for me, and that I was honored that you never let it interfere with our relationship as friends." Her pale, slender arm rose up as she approached him, and he felt the warm caress of her hand on his stubbled face.

"Lee... I... I couldn't act, not while Azir was alive. And afterwards, it just seemed too soon... " He paused as her fingertips came to rest on his lips, and he impulsively grabbed and kissed her hand.

"Jan, listen to me. I'm not really gone. I'll live forever in your heart, and within Diandra. I'll never leave you again." Her compassionate eyes, lightened to the darkest amber hue, grabbed his soul and her essence curled around his heart, soothing the ache that had lodged there since her death.

"But why, Lee? Why did you have to leave when you did?" LaFollet made no attempt to hide his pain from her, for she knew him all too well and would see through the subterfuge.

"It was my time. Be happy for me, Jan-Michel, for Azir and I are to be reunited." Her hand dropped away from his face and she turned to look at something, or someone, standing behind him. Turning slowly, Jan-Michel caught a glimpse of a tall form dressed in black and silver, with long jet-black hair flowing freely in a wind he couldn't feel. Azir. He'd come to claim his bride, his wife and companion. 

Turning to face his lost love once more, he was confronted with the edge of her blade against his throat. "Lee?" 

"You made me a promise, Jan, and I'm going to hold you to it. No more drinking. And you need to find another Teacher to instruct you in the way of the Game." Her blade disappeared, moving so fast that he couldn't see where she had hidden it. "I want you to live, Jan-Michel Wyatt LaFollet. Learn from my mistakes. Talk with Diandra or Methos or even Blair if you ever have any doubts or questions. But trust Methos with your life... "

LaFollet snapped back to awareness at the sound of a log falling deeper into the pyre, sending sparks and flames flying higher into the blue vaulted heavens. Gone was the vision of "home" at Hawk's Wind Mansion, replaced with the stark reality before him. Bending his head in prayer, he whispered, "I gave you my word, Eolia, and I'll always cherish your memory. May God keep you in the palm of His hand and bless your final journey." With that, Jan-Michel tossed his torch onto the pyre and returned to his place in the circle as tears started to flow down his face. He wasn't even aware that Adam Pierson, known to Eolia and Diandra as Methos, had moved to stand close to him, offering support without encroaching on his personal space. 

There was only one person left to say his good-byes to Eolia and the pyre was almost fully engulfed in flames as the burning fire started to climb toward the shrouded body.

Jim Ellison watched, detached from his own emotions, as the others went through their little eulogies for Lee Eolia. Something had happened, just what he wasn't sure, to Diandra, Blair, then Adam, and now it looked as though LaFollet had slipped into some kind of stupor as he stood before the pyre. The man's eyes were open, but Jim was pretty sure that his gaze wasn't viewing the fire before him, but was locked on a sight only he could see.

When Diandra had stepped forward to throw more of the powered herbs onto the pyre to sweeten the smoke, Jim had tried to avoid the tendrils that drifted his way. Something inside him told him that the reactions of the others was tied to their inhaling the black smoke shot through with flecks of gold, silver, pink and blue, that curled around their bodies like a living entity. No matter where he stepped or turned, the sliver of smoke that had drifted his way seemed to follow him, not allowing him to avoid it. 

The haunting scent of lavender and heather teased his nose, causing him to stop in his tracks, and soon, Jim was engulfed in the sweet smelling smoke. He felt his reality dissolving. Closing his eyes against the swimming effect that seemed to sweep over him, Jim found himself in a place he'd thought he would never have to see again.

The Temple of the Sentinels was bathed in green-blue light, and the sounds that greeted his ears were not the ones of water birds, waves, and the crackling of the pyre, but the sounds of the jungle. Exotic birds cried in the trees that stretched high over head, blocking the light of the sun and moving gently in a whisper soft breeze. His wandering gaze returned from his perusal of the forest canopy to see something move deeper into the Temple through the doorway. Jim was surprised to see the black jaguar appear in the opening and sit, as if waiting for the Sentinel to join him. Join the cat he did.

The steps leading down to the pools were worn smooth, but not as smooth as they had been when he had chased Alex into the Temple months ago. The torches that lit the way gave off a feeble light but that never bothered him as Jim controlled his sight, his pupils widening to allow the light to be more than adequate. Cautiously, the Sentinel entered the pool room and was relieved to find no one was there. 

A chill breeze blew across his body and, for the first time, Jim realized he was dressed in the garb he had worn while living among the Chopec. The tank top and camouflage pants were the same clothes he often saw his inner sentinel wearing during the few visions he'd had in the past.

The faintest touch, like that of a moth's gossamer wing, brushed his face, and Jim turned to see Lee Eolia standing beside him. Her long hair was braided at the temples, woven with glass and gold beads while the rest hung freely, flowing downward over shoulders covered in light colored leather. A golden torc was clasped around her neck.

"This is you, isn't it Jim? You are a Champion, a Watcher of the Clans, a Sentinel." Her voice tickled softly in his ears.

"Yeah, at least that's what Sandburg's been telling me for nearly four years." He took a closer glance at what the woman was wearing. The leather sheath covered her from shoulder to knees and was topped off by a coarsely woven cape that reminded him of the Tartans that the Scotsmen wore. "Lee, what are you doing here? Why am I here for that matter?"

She refused to meet his eyes, instead answering his questions while gazing into the pools that sat side by side in the chamber. "I asked the Gods for a final boon, to be able to speak to those I had hurt one last time, to apologize to them."

"Lee... " 

"No, Jim. I hurt you; you cannot deny that. By harming Blair, your Guide, I injured the Sentinel within you, nearly severing the bond that should exist between you." She walked over to the edge of one of the pools and sat down on the ledge, facing him, her face turned upwards so that her chocolate brown eyes finally met his own blue ones. "I never should have lied to you. I knew the thief at QuestScape was an Immortal but I thought I could handle him on my own. Foolish of me, I should have known better."

The Sentinel sat beside the Celtoi woman. "Lee, I'm not sure I would've believed you had you told me the truth at the time, even if I do know Immortals like you and Diandra exist. I wasn't exactly thinking straight from the first time I saw you."

There was a change in the air pressure of the Chamber as the sound of distant thunder echoed through the Temple. 

"You weren't the only one not thinking clearly, Jim." Her hand came up to caress his jaw, tracing the firm muscles there and following them upwards to his ear. "I'm glad I got to know you, to share a night of passion with you. Even back when I was born into this world, warriors such as yourself were rare gifts from the Gods. You are a very special man, James Ellison. And I'm honored that you consented to share a bed with me." 

Returning the caress, Jim touched her one last time, knowing that this wasn't real, but a vision conjured to the surface of his mind. Still, he was determined to enjoy it. His hands gently flowed from her elbows up her arms to rest on her shoulders and pull her closer to him. "Lee, I am the one who was honored. I just wish I had gotten to know the real you, the woman that I can now see, the one you kept hidden from the world."

Her smile was wistful as she accepted his embrace, and he allowed himself to enjoy the warmth of her body one last time. How long the two of them sat there, curled in each other's arms while balanced on the edge of the pool, Jim couldn't tell. After a while, she broke away from him, tears falling from her eyes in silence as she stood up and walked to the edge of the second pool. 

Jim watched, amazed, yet not surprised, as a dark skinned man of nearly his own height rose from the depths of the pool. The man was dressed in robes that reminded the Sentinel of the Arabs that he'd seen while stationed near Bahrain with the Army. The Arab held out his hands in greeting to Eolia, and she joined the man in the pool, standing in the water that came up to her thighs. Her smile for the man was radiant and her eyes reflected the joy she was feeling.

"This is Azir el'Sadih. My husband. I have to leave you now, but I cannot go until I hear from your own lips that you will try to patch things up between you and your Guide." 

She held out a hand towards him, and he moved forward to clasp it within his. "Lee, I promise. What ever it takes, Sandburg and I will try to work through this." He let go of her hand and stepped back away from the pool's edge. "Go now. Complete your journey that will restore you fully to Azir."

Opening his eyes, Jim was a little set aback to see that he was standing near the funeral pyre, and the thought that he had spoken his last words aloud settled over him. Still holding his burning torch, Jim let loose a sad sigh, then with a heave tossed the brand onto the pyre, watching as it sailed through the air to land on the linen enshrouded body of the woman he'd come here to say goodbye to. With a roar, the specially treated linen began to burn and the smoke and flame that rose from the conflagration seemed to twist into a strange fire-painting of the woman's face. It was smiling and serene, her hair blending flawlessly into the tongues of flame as they reached for the heavens. 

Though he knew it had to be a trick of sound, maybe a piece of wood that hadn't completely dried out, Jim shivered as a voice cried out in joy, even as the vision of Eolia's face disappeared in the flames and was swept upwards on plumes of white smoke. 

He could still hear Diandra chanting her song of mourning, but Jim had had enough. He turned on his heels in the soft loam of the clearing and headed back towards the cabin, but was be halted by Blair's hand on his shoulder. "What is it, Chief?" he ask, his voice sounding tired, even to his own ears.

The words had no sooner left his lips than the soft chanting that Diandra had kept up through the entire funeral stopped. Blair nodded towards his lover. "Okay, I guess we're done here. Jim, did you see and hear what I did?" The student jerked his head back towards the still burning pyre, hinting without words just exactly what he was referring to.

Allowing his gaze to return to the burning pyre, Jim nodded curtly. "Yeah, I saw it. As for what we heard, I'm sure it was just a piece of wood that hadn't dried out completely, nothing more." 

"Uh, huh. Right." Blair clasped his shoulder one last time before leaving Jim to walk over to where Diandra stood shivering in the cool wind that had started to blow in from the lake.

Looking out over the green-gray waters, he could just barely make out the squall line that was moving in. Carefully opening up his hearing, Jim could hear the distant thunder of the storm, much like the thunder he'd heard in the Temple of his vision. "Goodbye, Lee." 

Facing back towards the small group that still waited, Jim saw that Megan and Blair had moved in to help steady Diandra. LaFollet looked just about like he felt, like he'd been pounded flat on a rock and left to dry in the sun. Jim's headache was back.

* * *

Diandra opened her eyes to find the pyre nearly burnt down to ashes, and the sun beginning to set behind her. Blair grasped her arm as she took a step and staggered. "Damn...how long was I gone?" She felt Megan supporting her from the other side.

"A couple hours. Joe and Adam went down to the cabin, but the rest of us stayed," her partner answered.

She looked up then, first at Jan-Michel, then at Jim. Both men looked like they had been put through a wringer. "What in the hell was in that stuff you threw on the fire?" Jim growled. "It gave me a hell of a headache."

"I really don't think you want to know, Jim," Blair answered for her. 

Dee slid her arm over his shoulder and leaned on him as they started toward the cabin behind Jim, Megan and LaFollet. Her stomach growled. "Goddess, I'm hungry." She shivered. "And freezing."

Taking off his jacket, Blair helped her into it. "Come on. I'll take care of you." He wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her cheek.

Smiling, Dee nuzzled him back. "I know you will."

Pausing at the bottom of the trail, Jim looked back up at them. "Hurry it up, you two. I really would like to sleep in my own bed and not on a cold floor tonight."

"We're coming!" Blair yelled back. Lowering his voice, he said, "I'm glad that's over."

Dee gave him a squeeze. "So am I."

* * *

Adam made sure that Joe was comfortable in Duncan's cabin before he headed back up the trail to the burial site. He passed the rest of the party on the way, exchanging a few short words with them, telling them he'd catch up by the time they were ready to leave the island. He had one last duty to fulfill. One last, self-appointed task for his Student/Wife that only he could perform.

The sun had nearly sunk behind the approaching squall line when Methos completed his task and headed back down the trail to the cabin. There, refusing to eat the sandwich Dee had saved for him, he helped Joe back down to the dock, and the mourning party took their leave of the island. The place would now hold very special memories for him; one day he would have to return here. It was peaceful, serene, and now it held a small part of his heart, in scorched earth on a cliff.

**Epilogue**

Dee fumbled with her seatbelt as Megan pulled her Tahoe to a stop in front of the departing flights door at the Cascade airport. Hopping out of the SUV, she was heading around to the rear of the vehicle to grab her suitcase when Jim said, "Diandra, don't worry about it. Sandburg and I can take care of it. Go help Connor find a parking place." Shrugging, barely hiding a grin, Dee crawled into the passenger seat. This was working out better than she'd planned.

A few minutes later, Megan had parked the car in the covered garage, and the two women were walking back toward the terminal. They were starting across the covered walkway connecting the two structures when the companion paused, looked back toward the car, then at Dee. "You don't have your sword." The Immortal started to reply but Megan cut her off. "And don't tell me Sandy and Jim took it out of the back. I know you only put two bags in there, and neither one was your sword case. What in the hell is going on?"

"I think I'll be safe enough without it, and it's such a pain to take on trips. Miles of paperwork." She started walking toward the terminal again, but Megan caught hold of her arm.

"Wait a bloody minute! What about never knowing when the challenge is going to come? What about being prepared? Didn't your encounter with Ventriss teach you anything?"

Dee ran a frustrated hand through her hair. "Pajara, it isn't what you think." Damn it, she was going to have to tell her.

* * *

Blair glanced at his watch, then toward the entrance from the garage. "We're going to be late. We'll miss our plane." Jim chuckled softly. "What? What's so funny?"

"You, Chief. I've never seen you obsess over being late for anything."

The anthropologist shifted his backpack higher on his shoulder. "Yeah, well, I've never gone on a romantic vacation before, okay? I'm a little nervous. I mean, twenty-four hour togetherness is going to be something new for us." He sighed. "At least I checked the bags so we can go straight to the gate."

"I'm sure you'll manage just fine, and--" he gazed out the glass doors, "they're crossing the skybridge now."

Blair gazed up at the Sentinel, frowning. "What about you? Will you and Megan be okay? What if you zone? Will she be able to pull you out of it?" He couldn't help the stab of guilt he felt. Things still weren't back to normal between them, and he was beginning to doubt they ever would be.

"Sandburg--" His name was turned into a growl. "Connor and I will be fine. I hate to admit it, but she seems to be growing on me." His expression seemed to indicate he meant like a fungus, but Blair wisely didn't comment. 

A blast of cold air hit the two men as the door opened and Dee and Megan entered. "Everything all set?" Dee asked, walking over to Blair and hooking her arm through his. 

"Yeah, everything's fine. Bags are checked, so we need to head to the gate."

"You got everything?" Jim asked. "Cause if so, Connor and I are going to take off. Jags are on in half an hour."

Megan's smile reminded Blair of a crocodile's. "Oh, no, Jim, I told Dee I'd go to the gate with her. Come on, the plane leaves soon. It'll be fun." 

Jim rolled his eyes, but followed the trio toward the security checkpoint. Dee and Blair passed quickly through the x-ray and the metal detector, but Jim and Megan had to show their badges and wait until the guards received clearance from their supervisor to let them onto the concourse with their weapons. Finally they headed toward the gate.

"I don't see why we had to come with you. We took so long back there that you'll only have five minutes before you board," Ellison grumbled. 

Megan punched him lightly in the arm. "Don't be such a spoilsport."

They reached the gate to find that the boarding process had already begun. "Let's wait until the line goes down a bit. I hate getting on the plane and just sitting," Dee said. She observed them for a moment, wondering if she was doing the right thing. Megan had her hands in her pockets, a barely contained grin on her face. Ellison kept checking his watch and rocking back and forth on his heels like a runner at the starting line. Her lover was digging in his backpack for his ticket, and the sight of him with his unruly curls spilling around his face and his glasses sliding down his nose did incredible things to her insides. Goddess, she wanted him, wanted this so much...

When the line had dwindled to a few stragglers, Dee reached into her pocket and pulled out the envelope holding the tickets and the auto and condo reservations. Taking a deep breath, she stepped in front of Ellison. Grabbing hold of his hand, she placed the folder in it. "Happy Holidays, Jim," Diandra said softly, then stepped back.

Jim dropped his gaze to the tickets, then looked back up at her. "What is this?"

"That is a trip to the beautiful, peaceful island of Kauai for the two people who could use it the most--you and Blair." She knew this was the right thing to do, the only thing she could do, to try and fix what she had nearly broken.

She felt Blair stiffen beside her as he inhaled sharply. "Dee!"

She held her hand up to forestall any protests. "I've already made arrangements with Captain Banks. You have the week off with his blessings. And yes, it's my suitcase, but it's filled with your clothes, Jim. All I ask is that you try and repair the damage I did."

Ellison looked at the tickets again, and then at her, his expression slightly stunned. "I don't know what to say, Diandra. I...thanks."

The Immortal turned to Blair and, taking his hand, led him a few feet away, giving them the illusion of privacy. Once there, Blair let loose in a hushed whisper. "Dee, what are you doing? This was our trip! We planned this together. I thought you wanted to go with me--"

"I did and I do, Lobo. Now is just not the time. Jim needs the time to work through whatever feelings he had for Lia, and you need the time to reconnect with him, Guide to Sentinel." 

For a moment he looked like a kicked puppy, then the hurt in his eyes turned to terror. "You will be here when I get back won't you? You're not going to run out on me again, right?" His fingers clutched at her arm, telegraphing his fear.

She captured his face in her hands, lifting his chin so his eyes met hers. The pain she saw there cut her deeply, and she understood his fear. He'd just gotten her back, and now it felt like she was pushing him away once again. "I promise you I will be here. I will always be here for you." Tilting her head down, she kissed him tenderly. When they finally parted, she whispered, "I love you, Lobo."

"I love you, angel." Blair hugged her tightly, then reluctantly let go as the gate attendant announced the last boarding call. 

Dee watched as he made his way down the jetway behind Jim. This was the right thing to do. They needed this time together, without distractions, to work things out. Moving to look out the window at the plane, she could see Blair taking his seat by the window, Jim settling in beside him. As the plane began to move away from the terminal, Dee felt Megan's hand come to rest on her shoulder. 

"Come on, Dee. Let's go back to my place. We've got a lot of packing to do."

The Immortal gave her friend a grin. "Is it too late to call the plane back? I've changed my mind; I think we should be the ones going to Hawaii."

As the two women began to walk back through the terminal, Megan laughed. "Well, you know, if we get me all moved in the next couple of days, I wouldn't complain if you wanted to treat me to a trip to the beach." 

_Hmm, now that was an idea...._

* * *

"I am Jan-Michel LaFollet, a Watcher who has lost both of his Immortals in a short amount of time. But I have a new Immortal to Watch -- John Wyatt." I snap off the mini-recorder to look over at my traveling companion and the urn sitting in his lap. "Mr. Pierson, are you sure you want to do this?" 

"I'm sure. Now finish your Chronicle entry on yourself, we've a plane to Paris to catch." 

Snapping the recorder back on, I finish my entry. "I've been assigned to follow this new Immortal, who was brought to the attention of the Watchers after mysteriously showing up in Cascade, Washington. He seems to have been taken under the wing of an Immortal the local Watchers do not recognize. Mr. Wyatt and his Teacher are apparently traveling to Paris, France. I am using the cover of visiting the Watcher Archives with Historian Adam Pierson to see if we can find a record of this Teacher and to keep an eye on Wyatt." I close off the entry and turn to face my new Teacher. "Pierson, where is it you said you were going to take Eolia's ashes?"

I watch as Adam Pierson lovingly caresses the ceramic urn cradled in his lap, his sharp, drawn features softening in the light of the fading sun shining through the windows looking out over the airport departure area. "Home. I'm taking her home."

His voice is soft, tinged with grief and loneliness, a feeling I'm becoming all too familiar with, having lost two good friends in just over three months. "And just where on Earth might that be?" Okay, I'm curious. Besides, while Lee had been able to tell me most of her life's story before she was killed by Bradley Ventriss, she didn't recall where her home was.

"You can't come with me, LaFollet. You haven't the travel passes to get you into the area."

"Damn it!" Yes, I'm a little angry with my new Teacher. And his conciliatory tone just doesn't set well with me right now. I'm hurting too much, playing that damn 'What-If' game in my head. What if I'd told Lee how I felt about her before she got tangled up with Ellison? What if I hadn't tried to follow the Immortal who had attacked Diandra Pallas? What if Azir hadn't died in Seattle? Sighing, I push away the thoughts crowding my head. "Don't you think I have a right to know?" 

I try to keep my tone low, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to myself, or to this strange man who has become both my Teacher and my new Watcher Mentor. But something makes the man change his mind.

"The former Soviet State of Georgia. The Celtoi, Eolia's tribe, were from that area. It's where I first ran into them anyway, many, many years ago. Besides, the Greek authorities wouldn't give me permission to scatter her ashes where they really belong."

"And where would that be?"

He chuckles, a sad laugh, but the first time I've seen him relax since he arrived in Cascade. "Where she and I were married, and lived off and on for a while. Mycinia, but it's called something else today."

Eolia was married to Pierson? What else did she not think to tell me when I begged for her life's story? Was Pierson merely her first husband in a long life, or was he her Teacher? If that's correct, Lee told me the legendary Methos had trained her! Is Pierson that Immortal? The one who was reportedly part of the truth behind the Christian belief of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse? What kind of Immortal has Pallas hooked me up with? Just how old is Adam Pierson, anyway? I sink back into the chair with the feeling that my training as an Immortal is going to be one very long and strange trip indeed. Then again, maybe I'll enjoy the ride -- if I can keep my head.

**Finis**


End file.
